Harry Potter and the Wand of Woe
by Lounge256
Summary: SEQUEL TO DH: After the Battle of Hogwarts, interspecies relations are fraught. From the ashes of diplomacy comes a new enemy, and from the evils of last year all are invited to return to Hogwarts to retake the year. Sequels to follow. Canon. R&R!
1. The Goblin Debt

Harry sighed as he received yet another letter. He usually looked forward to letters, but for the past week he'd wished that the bank would stop sending him them. These were no ordinary bank letters, though. They were written on scrolls of parchment by goblins and delivered by owls. Harry was no ordinary boy, either, for he was a wizard.

It occurred to Harry that today was the day when his first Hogwarts letter came through the door. Normally, people would only get one, but Harry's relatives were Muggles, and they hated magic. But, as Muggles, or non-magic folk, they could never get away from the magical world, and it had eventually caught up to them in the form of a half giant knocking down the door to their hiding place. That was the best birthday Harry had ever had.

He was going to have to talk to the goblins at Gringotts bank. Earlier that year, he had broken into one of the most secure buildings in the world and stolen a valuable item from one of the vaults inside. No matter whether it was in the name of defeating Voldemort, the goblins wanted their revenge. And so they were holding his accounts until further notice.

The next day, Harry resolved to talk the matter over with the goblins. He took a pinch of floo powder from above the fireplace and threw it into the flames, which immediately turned a bright emerald green. Pocketing another few pinches of powder, he stepped into the flames and called "Diagon Alley!" He closed his eyes as he spun, then, feeling that he was about to stop, leant forward to propel himself out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron.

Smiling at Tom the barman, he flicked a silver sickle towards him as thanks for the use of his fireplace. Few people were so kind, and Tom appreciated this. Barely breaking his stride, he tapped the brick in the wall behind the pub, which opened quickly into an archway, sensing his purpose. He smiled as he thought back to when Hagrid, the half giant, had opened Diagon Alley for him, and it had opened slowly to put on a show.

As Harry strode past Gringotts, the two goblin doormen scowled at him and shook their fists in anger. He quickened his stride as they began to start after him. Thankfully they remembered that they had to hold their positions, and retreated. A bell tinkled in the gloom as Harry pushed open the door to Ollivander's shop and Harry waited for the surprise appearance he knew would come. He jumped as Ollivander loomed out of the gloom to his left, even though he had expected it.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. A pleasure to see you again. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk about wands," replied Harry.

"Well," smiled Ollivander, "what luck that you walked into a wand shop. Follow me." He led Harry behind the counter and into one of the back rooms. On the desk was a wand in progress, a short hazel twig, roughly cut and unpolished, with a unicorn tail hair laying beside it.

"Ok, I'd be happy to do it. I'd have to make some changes to the design, though. Of course, we can't do anything until you've checked with the Minister, though..." Shaking Harry's hand, Ollivander stood up and concluded the conversation. He led Harry back through the gloomy shop. "By the way, how's the wand?" he asked before Harry left the shop. Harry held up the wand he'd had for seven years. "But how did you fix it?"

"The elder wand isn't just used for duelling," Harry replied as he walked out of the shop.

"You found it?" he called after Harry. Harry kept walking, passing the goblins again and increasing his pace. He strode through the Leaky Cauldron and back over to the fireplace, calling "The Ministry of Magic!" as he stepped into the flames.

After the recent problems, the Ministry was no longer connected directly to the floo network. Instead, a neighbouring building had been set up as a security outpost, and Harry appeared in the fireplace within. He was taken through a series of rigorous checks and, after stating his business in the Ministry, was allowed through. Though he didn't have an appointment, Harry was immediately granted audience with the Minister. Knocking on his door, Harry heard the deep, soothing voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The witches and wizards who worked at the Ministry knew that any attempt to listen at the Minister's door would be futile as it was imperturbable. It was a very well-protected door, and nobody heard the conversation taking place inside, although a few junior officials still tried to listen in. What did the Boy who Lived want with the Minister of Magic? After an hour, the door opened and the two appeared from the office, shaking hands.

"I'll trust you to take this forward, Harry," rumbled Kingsley, "and to pass my message on to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Good luck."

"Thank you, Minister," smiled Harry. He walked back through the Ministry and back into Diagon Alley. This time, instead of striding quickly past Gringotts, he strode purposefully into the bank. The main counting hall was filled with stamping sounds and the scratching of quills as the goblins appraised items and managed accounts. Barely a few seconds after he had walked in, there was silence. Every face in the room turned to him and was filled with a look of deep loathing. Bracing himself, Harry walked over to the nearest available goblin.

"I'd like to speak with the manager, please," requested Harry politely.

"You're not welcome here, Harry Potter," growled the goblin, sneering at Harry.

"I've come to repay my debt," Harry retorted, keeping his cool. The goblin turned back to his giant ledger and pointed towards a door behind him. Harry thanked the goblin, then stepped around the counter towards the door. As he began to knock, the door swung open and a swarthy face peered out.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. You'd better come in." The goblin pointed at a chair and Harry sat down. "I hear you've come to repay your debt. You are to pay for..." He pulled out a list from the draw labelled 'Potter'. "...kidnapping a Gringotts goblin; kidnapping a very old and rare dragon; damage to the tunnels of Gringotts; damage to the counting hall; damage to the Thief's Downfall, costs including the recasting of ancient goblin magic; and theft of goblin artefacts. That comes to around thirty seven thousand, eight hundred galleons."

"I think I have something that can pay off that debt," said Harry. He detailed his plan, agreed by Ollivander and Kingsley, while the goblin looked at Harry over his crooked fingers.

"So you'd give us wands and teach us magic in exchange for your debts being paid off and the ownership of rented goblin artefacts? What's the catch?"

"There's no catch," confirmed Harry. "The Minister of Magic would be happy to draw up an agreement. He's contacting the Wizengamot now, and if they can be persuaded to agree to this, it'll be put down in law. Mr. Ollivander's already experimenting with goblin wands now. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal!" exclaimed the goblin, grasping Harry's hand before he could go back on it. "Griphook!" Griphook entered the room, scowling at Harry. "Reactivate Mr. Potter's accounts, please." Griphook brightened up at this and smiled at the two of them.

"Of course, sir. Follow me, Mr. Potter." He led Harry out to sign the forms needed to release his accounts. He was about to sign his name at the very bottom of the last page when Hermione and Bill Weasley burst in.

"Harry," panted Bill, "stop. You don't know what you're signing. Didn't anyone ever tell you to read a contract before signing it?" Of course, it turned out that the very last page was a separate contract, authorising the payment for the damage he'd done.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter," said Griphook, taking the form away. "We'd forgotten to take this out." He left the room, leaving Harry, Hermione and Bill to read the final forms. Bill took the sections relating to Gringotts as he knew their regulations off by heart. Hermione was given the task of reading through the rest of the legal documentation and Harry was left to read through his personal information.

_I, Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily (Evans) Potter, do hereby acknowledge the reactivation of all accounts in my name and accept the responsibility of all such accounts. I also acknowledge receipt of the keys to each of vaults 8, 687, 713 and 1024._

"That's odd. It says here I have four accounts. And one of them is the one the Philosopher's Stone was in..." Bill called Griphook in and asked him to explain.

"Ah, yes," mused Griphook. "Of course, you know about vault 687. That's your normal vault. Vault 713 was Albus Dumbledore's vault and is empty. As such it was not legally required to be processed by the Ministry, so Professor Dumbledore wrote a personal Gringotts will bequeathing it to you. I assume it is for sentimental value. Vault 1024 is the type of vault every wizard gets when they're eighteen. It's the vault that your money goes into when you get a job. Surely you could have told him that, Bill?"

"I thought those vaults were numbered above 2000," claimed Bill, obviously baffled.

"Ah yes," conceded Griphook. "You weren't to know. Those numbered below 2000 are governed by the Ministry. Of course, I shouldn't tell you this, but you are to be offered a job in the Ministry. You will probably get a letter in the next couple of days." Harry thanked Griphook and, having found that there were no catches among any of the forms, signed them with a loopy signature.

"Hang on!" exclaimed Bill. "You left out vault 8. What's that for?"

"Ah," replied Griphook, "that, I cannot say. Mr. Potter, you will be told in due course. I bid you good day." And with that they were ushered back into the counting hall. "I presume that you would like to make a withdrawal, though?"

"Yes, thank you, Griphook." Harry parted from Bill and Hermione and followed Griphook down to his old vault. He gathered the usual handful of galleons, sickles and knuts into a bag and left, eventually finding Hermione and Bill eating ice cream outside the ice cream parlour. Ron was sitting with them eating a huge chocolate ice cream. He had a blob of ice cream on his nose, which Hermione wiped off and ate while Bill wasn't looking.

"Tasty?" asked Harry from behind Hermione. She squealed and looked round sharply. Ron gave him a dark look. "Are we ready to go back then?" he asked. They nodded and got up from their seats, paying a handful of sickles for their ice creams. They all headed into the Leaky Cauldron, throwing floo powder into the fire and calling "The Burrow" as they did so.


	2. Unexpected Letters

**A/N: Hope you all had a fantastic Easter yesterday! You're getting all content hot off the press, so apologies for any future waits. Anyway, enjoy!

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As the four stepped out of the fire, Mrs. Weasley bustled around them, sweeping up the ash they'd spread onto the floor. Her broom was a present from Harry for looking after him for so long. You could clip in your wand and the broom would use the _tergeo_ spell to clean out the tougher stains. It was a new product from _Witch Weekly_ and Mrs. Weasley used it at every available opportunity. As she finished brushing the floor and the four who had emerged from the fireplace, she stood in front of them and examined them.

Ron flinched as she brought out a handkerchief and spat on it, and cowered as she approached them, closing his eyes. The handkerchief never came. Instead, he looked up and saw that Hermione was squirming under the careful ministrations of his mother.

"Mum!"

She stopped, and ushered them over to the dinner table, where she had laid out plates of roast chicken, surrounded by vegetables. They converged with the stampede of the other Weasleys running down the stairs and somehow, in a strangely fluid movement, arranged themselves around the table without touching anyone else. The only exceptions were Harry and Ginny, who shared a brief hug before sitting down.

"Nice job getting mum the broom," grinned George. "Don't tell anyone, but we helped design that. _Witch Weekly_'s product division have been all over us."

"We?" questioned Harry. "I thought, since..." George's face dropped slightly, almost imperceptibly. Harry noticed, and immediately apologised, but he waved it off, as though it were of no importance.

"Yes, Verity still works for us, I mean me... She was the one who got me into domestic products in the first place. They're a real money-spinner, but we don't want our name officially associated with them. The name is _Witch Weekly_, the magic is Weasley."

"Genius," Harry grinned, and tucked into his chicken with obvious relish. Gravy dribbled out of the corners of his mouth and Ginny giggled. Looking up, he saw that Ron was in the same predicament. Gradually, the whole table began to roar with laughter as people gradually caught on.

The next day, six eagle owls, one of them jet black, flew towards the Burrow clutching yellow envelopes. As though she was expecting it, Mrs. Weasley opened the window and they all flew in, landing on the kitchen table. She untied the letters from the legs of all the owls except the black one, which tried to bite her when she got too close. She just managed to make out Harry's name on the letter as it shuffled around.

"_Sonorus_. HARRY!" she yelled, her voice magically amplified. There was a loud crack as Harry apparated beside her. "HARRY! JUST BECAUSE YOU... _Quietus_. Just because you've got your licence now, doesn't mean you have to apparate everywhere. I know you feel you need the practice, but you're as bad as Fred and George." She fell silent at this.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," apologised Harry, hugging her tightly. "What was it you wanted?"

"Ah yes. You've got a letter." She pointed to the black owl on the table, which seemed to be scowling at her.

"It seems like I've got more than one letter," he chuckled, looking at the pile of letters on the table.

"Oh, they're for everyone. For now I just want that... owl... out of my house." She scowled right back at the owl and a staring contest persisted until Harry relieved the owl of its burden and it flew back to whoever had sent it. "Read that one later, dear. Help me get the others out of bed, would you?"

"Ok," Harry agreed. He headed off upstairs, first poking his head into Ginny's room. He saw she was asleep still, even after that yell from Mrs. Weasley, so he went and shook her awake. "Good morning, gorgeous," he murmured as she slowly opened her eyes and yawned. After her, he woke Hermione who was sleeping in the camp bed just next to Ginny's. By the time Hermione had seen who it was, squealed and hidden under the sheets Ginny was leaning over the bed, grinning at Harry.

After the girls, Harry rushed off to wake George and Ron, who were even groggier than the girls. He was amazed that he was the only one to wake up at the sound of Mrs. Weasley's call. After a long half an hour, he eventually managed to coax everyone out of bed and into the kitchen. Ron yawned, stretching his arms, as he finally fell down the last couple of steps into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley held up the five identical letters, spreading them out so that the crests on each of them could be seen.

"Hogwarts letters?!" exclaimed Ron. "But we've missed seventh year!"

"And why am I here?" asked George. "I left over two years ago!"

"It seems Professor McGonagall has seen fit to invite you all back, in light of your final years. Ginny, of course you'd get one anyway. Well, enjoy!" Mrs. Weasley handed out the letters and they each tore their envelopes open. Harry stared in wonder at his own letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Honorary Grand Sorceress)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to announce that we are inviting you to repeat the last year of your education at the school, given the circumstances surrounding that period. We await your owl no later than the 25__th__ July. We apologise for the inconvenience of the earlier date, but we have more requests to process due to the predicaments developed by the last year. Please see the enclosed equipment list and personal notes if applicable._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Flitwick_

_Deputy Headmaster_

Harry pulled out the next piece of parchment.

_For your next year, you will be required to have:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven by Miranda Goshawk_

_The Ultimate Defence by Professor Vindictus Viridian_

It seemed he could use most of his books from the sixth year. He then pulled out the personal note from the envelope.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We thank you for your participation last year in what is now widely known as the Battle of Hogwarts. We hope you will accept the position of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts in conjunction with your position at the Ministry. We will attempt to cover your lessons whenever necessary. We have sent similar letters to Mr. Ronald Weasley, Miss. Ginevra Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom. We hope that they will aid you in this position. You may wish to purchase the set books for the seven years in order to conform to OWL and NEWT standards. You will also be granted the use of the staff room for the duration of the year._

_As you are repeating the seventh year, you will not be sleeping in the normal house dormitories. We have created communal "eighth-year" dormitories – one male and one female. They will be password-protected in the same way as the traditional dormitories. We hope that you will enjoy this year at Hogwarts and that you will do well in your NEWTs at the end of the year._

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

"It says here that I'm going to be teaching Defence," said Harry as he read the letter.

"Me too," claimed Hermione, who had also read her letter quickly.

"And me," said Ron slowly.

"Well, I haven't. I don't know why," said George. "Actually, though, I might go this year if Harry's teaching Defence. Should be a laugh..."

"Hang on," said a small voice slowly. Everybody's heads turned towards Ginny. "I've got an invitation to teach Defence, too..."

"There must be some mistake there. Ginny's too young! How can this have happened?" Mrs. Weasley was puzzled.

"She fought well against the Death Eaters in the Battle," explained Harry. "Her Bat-bogey Hex is amazing. She was at the Ministry with us. Ginny is one of the most skilled witches I have ever known and I don't know how much of last year I could have done without her." Mrs. Weasley's face split into a smile which grew with every word he spoke. By the end of it she was convinced and was at a loss for words. She merely nodded.

"Apparently," continued Harry, turning back to the letter, "I've got a position at the Ministry."

"Oh," said Mrs. Weasley, "that should be the other letter you got then." Harry took it, slit open the envelope and read.

_Dear Harry,_

_I've been informed that you wish to become an auror. We plan to hire you as an auror, but first you must undergo the auror training. Throughout your experiences with one Tom Riddle, you have already learned most of what you would ordinarily learn in the first year. As you are continuing with your education (I would expect that this is so), you would be taught the remaining part of the first year's course across the whole year. You would, as part of your duties, be expected to teach the others starting the auror course in sessions throughout the year, teaching them the basics that you have encountered. It is hoped that by the end of this year you will be at the same level as them and that you will join them in consecutive years as peers. Please send a reply as soon as possible. The owl who delivered this letter will return each day for your reply as a security measure._

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic._

_P.S. You will be expected to gain the NEWTs required as normal to become an auror, so no slacking off. Also, would you be so kind as to meet me on the 24__th__ July? I have some time off, so would gladly join you at the Burrow, possibly staying to sample some of Molly's fabulous cooking._

"So, I'm going to be an auror," confirmed Harry.

"How can you?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "You don't have the qualifications yet. Are they giving you the benefit of the doubt?"

"No, I still have to take my NEWTs. It's just that Voldemort and Dumbledore have taught me most of what I need to know for the first year of auror training. The rest I'll learn as I study for the NEWTs I need. I wonder what I'll be learning..." Harry scribbled replies to both Hogwarts and the Ministry, and the others followed suit with their Hogwarts letters.

George had decided that he was going to take the very end of the seventh year, spread across the whole of the next year while he ran his business. He was going to be developing a wide range of new items, and was in the process of buying out Zonko's in Hogsmeade. Harry grinned at the thought of future generations buying Weasley products during their Hogsmeade visits. They all watched as Pigwidgeon flew off to Hogwarts carrying their replies.


	3. The Lakeside Ceremony

**A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter, hot off the press yet again. I'm also a beta, yet to get my first story, so if you need a story to be beta-read, just PM me :D

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Two days later, it was a sunny morning when Kingsley Shacklebolt disapparated just beyond the boundary of the Burrow. His outline shimmered due to the thick layer of protective spells cast upon him by the auror department. As he stepped within the protective bounds of the house, he dispelled his shields. Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the house, wiping her streaming eyes.

"Sorry about the shields, Molly," apologised Shacklebolt, producing a handkerchief from the end of his wand and giving it to her.

"Don't worry about it, Minister. I understand. Your safety comes first."

"Call me Kingsley, Molly." He embraced her as an old friend would, then straightened up in a businesslike manner. "Now, where's Harry? Today is going to be a full day." Mrs. Weasley led him to the sitting room and motioned that he should sit down. As he took his seat, she bustled upstairs to wake Harry. "Does she bustle everywhere?" murmured the Minister to himself.

"Minister," said Harry a few minutes later, inclining his head towards the man on the sofa.

"Why so formal, Harry?" asked Kingsley. "We're among friends here. Call me Kingsley."

"Oh, he won't do that," said Mrs. Weasley, setting down a tray covered in tea and biscuits. "He still flatly refuses to call me Molly. Oh go on, Harry," she implored him.

"Ok, Molly, Kingsley. Now, Kingsley, what's happening today?"

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

"Yes," confirmed Harry, "here." Kingsley looked puzzled. "_Muffliato_. Now nobody can listen in on us. All they'll hear is a buzzing in their ears." Kingsley beamed at Harry.

"Well, Griphook informs me you've been asking about vault 8. What I'm about to tell you, you can't tell anyone else – not Ron, not Hermione, not even Ginny. We'd like you to become an Unspeakable."

"I thought I was going to be an auror," said Harry, confused.

"Yes, but the Department of Mysteries needs aurors. To the other aurors, you will be just another auror, but you will be called to certain scenes and events that other aurors won't. That is, if you accept, of course."

"Of course I accept, but you still haven't told me about vault 8."

"Oh, yes. We can't give you your earnings from being an unspeakable to the same account. There are some who have ways of tracking that. Instead, we give each unspeakable one of the best-protected vaults in Gringotts. Although, we might have to increase the security, judging by your own exploits. Anyway, it will also contain some of the equipment you will need, seeing as we can't officially give it to you. We're still vetting everyone in the Ministry."

Harry lifted the muffliato charm and Kingsley invited Mrs. Weasley over. Seeing that they wanted to talk in private, he went out into the garden where Ron, Hermione and Ginny were throwing apples at each other, trying to improve their catching abilities. Harry hovered by the door, then suddenly dived onto the grass, intercepting an apple thrown at Ron and rolling to his feet. Harry joined the game until Mrs. Weasley poked her head out into the sun, squinting, and called them inside.

"We're all taking a trip to Hogwarts," announced Mrs. Weasley. "Get something warmer on and smarten up."

"Aren't we a bit early?" asked George, yawning widely. He'd just woken up, and so was still in his pyjamas. Hermione kept glancing at him and giggling.

"Oh, just do it, George," said Mrs. Weasley with a hint of grumpiness about her. Everybody rushed off to smarten up and regrouped in the kitchen under Mrs. Weasley's orders. They then trooped out into the yard and Kingsley stuck out his wand arm.

BANG!

A giant purple bus appeared on the lane outside the Burrow, braking heavily. As its doors opened, a large group of wizards ran out of the bus and surrounded the group. Harry had drawn his wand, but Kingsley, seeing this, waved it away. They marched onto the bus and sat on the bottom deck, still surrounded by the wizards.

"I see you still haven't got Stan Shunpike back yet," said Harry, scowling.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry, but I do have good news," claimed the Minister. Harry brightened at this. "We recently found Stan in the Forest of Dean, still under the Imperius Curse, which tells us that there are still some Death Eaters on the loose. We had to stun him, but he's in St. Mungo's now undergoing treatment for his continued exposure to the Curse. Unfortunately, he may never be the same again." The journey on the Knight Bus became a more sombre affair after this, but the sight of Hogwarts in the summer was magnificent, and cheered them up. Even Filch, the caretaker, looked more cheerful as he opened the gates for the approaching bus.

As the bus approached the front doors of the castle, they saw Professor McGonagall chasing after Professor Flitwick, who had clearly been sunbathing in his swimming trunks, brandishing a roll of parchment. She was shouting at him while pointing at the bus and, looking back, he waved his wand and dressed in mid-step in long, black robes.

They rounded the corner of the castle with the Quidditch pitch towering over the landscape to their right, and in the distance, by the edge of the lake, they saw a crowd of people sitting in front of a stage. They drove right up to the right-hand side of the stage before they stopped, and the serious wizards around them left the bus to line the way to the stage.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and George joined the already present Neville and Luna in seats on the stage, facing the crowd. The crowd was littered with faces they recognised, including many of the Hogwarts students and their families. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting in the front row, along with Mr. Lovegood, Neville's grandmother and numerous dignitaries, Ministry employees and reporters from the various wizarding publications. Former students such as Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson and Percy's ex-girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, were spread between the third to sixth rows. Bill and Charlie Weasley sat behind their parents and the Hogwarts teachers sat in that same row. Even Rita Skeeter could be seen with her acid green quill at the back of the crowd, grinning evilly. As Kingsley stepped from the bus onto the stage and up to the podium, the crowd fell silent.

"Today is a great day. Even in light of the recent events here, at Hogwarts, and across the country, today is a good day. We are here to hand out some awards. These are awards for bravery, intelligence, strength and, above all, loyalty. We have here before us seven brave and loyal people with a combined forty four years of Hogwarts experiences among them. The first is Neville Longbottom. His parents were tortured by Death Eaters just after Voldemort's first downfall, and since then he has exceeded his grandmother's expectations of him. He has, since his very first year, shown bravery and loyalty and is an asset to the wizarding world. To him, I award the Order of Merlin, First Class."

There was an almost deafening round of applause as Neville stumbled up to the podium. Cameras flashed and reporters raised their hands. Kingsley whispered in Neville's ear. After a nod from Neville, he began conducting Neville's Questions and Answers session.

"What motivated you to fight against the Death Eaters in the Battle of Hogwarts?" asked a reporter in deep plum robes.

"My parents, of course. I always visit them, and they always look at me with the same blank look. It'll take a few more years before their torment is over, and it has to be the same for the Death Eaters. They can't get away with what they've been doing to innocent people for so long. I'm just glad I've done what I can to help." Kingsley pointed at a witch in midnight blue robes next.

"Will you be returning to Hogwarts to retake your seventh year?"

"Ah, yes. I'd do anything to come back to Hogwarts, even if the last year was a normal one. Hogwarts is, to use a Muggle phrase, a magical place."

Neville was followed by Luna, then Ginny, all three of them being asked about last year's experiences. George gave a beautiful testimony to Fred when his turn came around, and had to sit back down, taking no questions. Rita Skeeter's quill was scratching while everybody spoke, though she kept eye contact with Harry, who scowled back. Hermione, then Ron, then Harry received their awards next and were all asked the same probing questions about the last year. They each refused to answer any questions on that topic and the reporters fell back on more acceptable topics, though still hinting at the trio's excursion. The ceremony then moved on to a lighter note.

"Many of you here will not have witnessed this next part of the ceremony. It is usually a more private ceremony, closed to the general public, but this year is an exception. Hogwarts is still in the process of being rebuilt, as is the morale of the staff. Now, every year the teachers at Hogwarts take part in a ceremony officially recognising them as Professors at the school. This ceremony usually takes place later in the year, but we've brought it forward to coincide with today's awards. I hereby award a permanent professorship to Minerva McGonagall as she takes up the mantle of headmistress." She stepped up and received the plaque and certificate, similar to the ones Harry had seen in Dumbledore's office, though he had paid little attention to them. "I shall leave her to hand out the remaining professorships for this year."

"Thank you, Minister," said Professor McGonagall. "The first professorships are to be awarded to existing staff. With them go my thanks for their efforts, and success, in the Battle of Hogwarts, and I hope you will add your thanks also." She handed out the certificates to Professors Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Horace Slughorn, Aurora Sinistra, Septima Vector, Bathsheba Babbling, Cuthbert Binns, Rubeus Hagrid, Sybil Trelawney and Firenze.

"I now come to the matter of the new staff," continued McGonagall. "There have been vacancies for the posts of teaching Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Our new Muggle Studies teacher is Professor June Bell. Congratulations, Professor Bell." A kind-looking woman with light, curling hair stepped up to the stage and shook Professor McGonagall's hand. Taking her professorship, she twirled in her bottle green robes and shot a mischievous grin at the flashing cameras.

"The position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has gone to a, well, wide range of people. Since Tom Riddle was turned down for the post, no teacher has managed to hold down the post for more than a year. Now that he has gone, we hope that this will change. I therefore would like to present the professorship to Mr. Harry Potter and associate professorships to Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Ginevra Weasley." There was an initially hesitant round of applause as every face in the crowd, save for Skeeter's and those of their parents, was filled with shock.

As they all accepted their certificates of professorship, Professor McGonagall announced that questions were welcome. Almost every hand shot up immediately.


	4. The Staff Room

**A/N: Thanks to antithought (love the name) for helping to collaborate with my research for this chapter.

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Finally finished with the questions, most of which he had dismissed, Harry sat back down on his seat. Professor McGonagall stood back at the podium and continued her announcements.

"We have another addition to our staff this year," she said, speaking louder than before in order to silence the still crowing reporters. "Madam Hooch, our flying teacher, has retired, but will remain in the village of Hogsmeade. She has kindly agreed to commentate on this year's Quidditch matches. I'd like to thank Madam Hooch for the fantastic contribution she has made to Hogwarts." There was a round of applause for Madam Hooch, and each of the new Defence professors joined in with great pleasure. They all had fantastic memories of her.

"Thankfully, a new Flying teacher has been found, and again, she is a former student of the school. I hope you will all join me in welcoming Angelina Johnson back to Hogwarts." There was yet another raucous round of applause as Angelina stood up and waved to the rest of the crowd. Harry's concentration began to drift as McGonagall finally wrapped up the long ceremony.

Afterwards, everybody was gathered further along the edge of the lake, under a small copse of trees. Mrs. Weasley was hugging Harry so hard he thought he might have felt a rib crack.

"I want you to look after yourself, Harry. Being an auror has its downsides. Still, it should be easier now V...V...Vol...demort's gone." Harry respected Mrs. Weasley for this. It was still going to be a while before the wizarding world could confidently utter the name of the dark wizard who, until very recently, terrorised every single wizarding family. He cast his mind back to the very end of the last year, after he had slept for two days straight.

Harry walked into the Great Hall and tried to edge his way up to the Staff table without being noticed. Halfway along the hall, someone noticed him and shouted out his name. Though nearly all of them were mourning the passing of loved ones, they all stood up, turned to him and cheered. Harry smiled, though it may have been a grimace, and strode more purposefully up to the staff table and the carved lectern. He had been dreading this moment, when he would have to make a speech.

"Thank you, everybody," he started, his voice sounding magically enhanced due to the near-perfect silence in the cavernous room. "I would especially like to thank everybody who fought for Hogwarts. Many lost their lives in this battle, and they are the true heroes of this age. They fought for our future without any thought to their being part of it. They were the bravest of all of us, for they looked death in the eye, and never hesitated to make the ultimate sacrifice. They did this for us... for you. Mourn them today. Mourn them a week from now. But lay them to rest and pay your respects to them by living in the world they have created for us. If we continue to be brought down by recent events, Lord Voldemort will still be affecting us, and he will be winning the final battle. I propose we rebuild our lives first by the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Thank you, once again." Harry walked away from the lectern and up to Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, smiling with a tear in the corner of her eye. "I'm glad you're finally awake though. We were going to hold the funeral today for all those who wanted to have theirs today."

"Where's Voldemort?" asked Harry. "I think that we can lower Death Eater morale by giving him a respectful funeral, then cremating him. I feel sorry for him. He never knew love, or friendship, or any true happiness. He was indeed a lonely person." McGonagall directed him to the body, lying askew on a table in an adjoining chamber, away from the families of the fallen.

The funeral was a long and sombre affair, but everyone managed to stay alert for the whole ceremony. It drew on well into the night, each of the deceased having a speech from the person who knew them best and a short conclusion from Harry or one of the teachers. The last person to be laid to rest was Voldemort, and by this time he was being called by his old name. Though few looked happy at this prospect, Harry Ron and Hermione all gave short speeches pitying the Dark Lord, and his pyre was then lit, burning away the fear of the past decades.

Professor McGonagall walked over to where they were stood in the dappled shade by the lake. She was a changed person, and ruffled the hair of all her male Gryffindors and Hermione, who protested about her hair being mussed up, though less vehemently than she would have usually done. From then the new headmistress merely placed a comforting and proud hand on the shoulder of all her female lions.

"Professor Potter and Associate Professors," she addressed them in mock formality, "the end of the summer holidays is usually a time when the teachers at Hogwarts plan for the year ahead. You will need to plan your lessons carefully, making sure they teach everything that needs to be taught that year. I'd be happy to help you in any way you need, as I've already planned my Transfiguration lessons."

"About that..." said Harry slowly. "I thought you were the headmistress now. How can you teach Transfiguration at the same time?"

"Oh, being the head of a school like Hogwarts isn't a big job. Most of it is being a figurehead and going to meetings with the board of governors. Dumbledore kept himself busy with figuring out how to defeat Voldemort and with problems from the Ministry. If it wasn't for those, he would have continued to teach Transfiguration and I would never have got the job here."

McGonagall led the six new Defence teachers into the castle, through the Entrance Hall and up to the pair of gargoyles flanking the staff room door. Introducing each of them to the gargoyles, she led them into the long, oak-panelled room where the rest of the teachers were gathered with pieces of parchment gathered around them. Professor Flitwick was talking with Professor Bell and helping her plan out the year ahead. She was scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment, faster than Harry had ever seen anyone write. She even wrote faster than Hermione during a particularly interesting Charms essay.

"Harry, m'boy!" bellowed Slughorn, rushing over to him and scattering his parchment across the room. "Let me help you with this next year. I must admit, I was quite the duellist back in the day." He led them towards the largest desk in the centre of the room and they sat around it. They each took one year and planned the lessons for it. Neville and Luna took the second and third year with a curriculum of dark creatures. Hermione joined them, filling in the gaps and forming a curriculum of advanced dark creatures for the sixth year. Ginny and Ron took the fourth and fifth years, with a curriculum of curses, hexes, jinxes and counter-spells, plus a number of protective charms. Harry devised a couple of sketchy plans for the first and final years.

Harry's notes were sketchier than the others' as he was sitting next to Ginny. It was nothing to do with the fact that he had two years to plan, more the fact that he was mesmerised by every curl of Ginny's flowing handwriting. Thankfully, when the others were finished they put it more down to his having double the time to plan for. Professors McGonagall and Slughorn talked to them about the rest of the arrangements for the next year and how they would fit their normal lessons within their teaching schedules. They would receive their timetables at the same time as the students, and would be sitting with the staff at the newly-extended staff table.

Back at the Burrow, Harry sat at the kitchen table, cursing himself for being distracted. He couldn't think of what else to put in his seventh year classes. He'd been through every other year, merging everything into one cohesive plan, but the seventh year seemed so empty.

"Why don't we go to Diagon Alley and get your books?" suggested Mrs. Weasley, seeing that Harry was struggling with this sudden immersion into professorship. She held up the sheaf of parchment in her hand. "I've got everybody's equipment lists. Let's get everything for the others while they're out." The others were playing Quidditch in the orchard behind the garden under the silvery sky of late August. Mrs. Weasley threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire and very soon they were standing inside the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry managed to persuade Mrs. Weasley to use his money to get everybody's equipment. This was no mean feat, as she was very protective of all of them, and especially Harry. She saw Harry as her own son, and was so kind that she always wanted to give them everything she could, no matter what the cost. Harry respected that, but he respected her more than to let her pay for him, especially with the piles of gold he had lying in his own vault.

They bought refills of the potion ingredients they would need for the next year, including a new cauldron for Ron. The bottom of his cauldron was getting rather thin, and 'below acceptable levels' according to Percy. Percy had informed him that he could be fined if he continued to use his old cauldron. Besides, now Harry could buy him a better one, made of something better than pewter. He wanted to get the solid gold cauldron he'd seen on his first visit to Diagon alley, but apparently they'd been proven unsafe by Percy's earlier study. They reacted badly with the Draught of Living Death and some of the simpler calming tonics.

He bought four copies of _The Ultimate Defence_ in Flourish and Blotts and made sure to pop into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, much to the protest of Mrs. Weasley. He stressed to her the importance of disguises and stealth and that many of the items he needed were in her sons' shop.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said a light voice. George's assistant, Verity was by his side almost in the instant he walked through the door. "What'll it be today? Everything free of charge, of course."

"I'd like to peruse the back room, please." Verity led him around to the back, the thickset Gregory Goyle stepping aside for them. Goyle had changed since he'd been pulled from Malfoy's shadow. He didn't care for the Death Eater ways of his father, and was actually quite nice once you got to know him. Harry took a handful of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, a few Decoy Detonators, a Shield Cloak and a set of Skiving Snackboxes. He was set for the year.


	5. Back to the Castle

The day before they were going to leave for Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, Ginny and George were playing Quidditch in the orchard. Harry watched as a silver shape sped up from the house and into the middle of the pitch. Harry flew down beside it as it began to speak with Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"Come back to the house now. We have visitors." They all dismounted and ran back to the house, racing each other as they did so. Harry tripped at the last minute, relinquishing his victory to Ginny. Harry dragged himself through the back door to find a young Teddy Lupin being passed around between everyone. Harry, who hadn't seen Teddy since his birthday, ran over to hug him and Ginny. He put his arm round her and ruffled his godson's hair. Teddy grinned and gurgled at him.

"He's missed his godfather," said Andromeda Tonks from behind the door. Harry left his two favourite people in the world and went to hug her.

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks. What's the special occasion?"

"I wanted to give you this on your birthday, but I didn't think it was the time. Open it at Hogwarts. It might help you with your lessons." She handed him a very familiar and very tattered briefcase. Harry could still just make out the letters R.J. Lupin on the side. "He would have wanted you to have it."

Harry was woken abruptly by a firm but gentle shaking by the shoulder. Blearily, he opened his eyes and couldn't see much more than before. Gradually, he found the fuzzy shape of Mrs. Weasley, barely distinguishable from the surrounding gloom.

"Quick, get up," insisted Mrs. Weasley. "Maybe you can help me wake Ron." Harry turned over in his camp bed and reached up, quickly jabbing a finger just below his best friend's ribcage. There was a sudden bellow of pain and rage as Ron sat bolt upright. "Ah, good. He's up," said Mrs. Weasley, who left the room to cook breakfast, which turned out to be huge, even by Ron's standards. Evidently Mrs. Weasley had hoped this would stop them all from leaving her for another year as Mr. Weasley popped his head through the kitchen door to get them to hurry up.

Harry and Ginny pushed their trolleys through the barrier at King's Cross together, followed by the others, and were almost immediately joined by a beaming blonde girl. As they wended their way through the gatherings of parents and children they were joined by a tall, round-faced boy, a bushy-haired girl and a gaggle of younger children all discussing the group of seventh years in front of them. As though they had planned this over the summer, they turned as one, waved at their parents, then turned back and boarded the train. The younger students stared at the spot they had entered the train from with awe.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna looked up as a group of people filed into the prefects' compartment, each holding up a shining gold galleon. Almost everyone from the original Dumbledore's Army, plus a few new faces, sat around the edge of the compartment, looking expectantly at Harry. He paired them up at random and announced that the Army would continue this next year. While the original Army practiced their duelling, Harry got to know last year's additions to the cause.

"This is not a group of pranksters or troublemakers," he told them. "This has always been a group dedicated to the safety and wellbeing of everyone. Umbridge refused to teach us how to defend ourselves three years ago, so we had to learn for ourselves. I trust you're all here for the right reason, and so would like to officially welcome you all to Dumbledore's Army." Harry withdrew the original DA list and added their names to it. As he added the last name, there was a quiet knock at the door. A pale, blond head poked around the door, looking nervous.

"Could I join you?" he asked.

"You're not welcome here, Malfoy!" called Zacharias Smith from the back of the room, raising his wand. A couple of people around him hesitantly followed suit, as did the younger additions, thinking it was the right thing to do.

"_Protego_!" muttered Harry. As the jet of light from Zacharias' wand bounced off the invisible shield, Harry stood up and strode over to his old nemesis. "Draco Malfoy is many things: the son of a Death Eater; an accomplice to the Dark Arts; a Slytherin. However," he continued, raising his voice as Zacharias had begun to speak again. Malfoy looked up with surprise. "He is first and foremost a student of Hogwarts, and as such will always be welcome here. I believe him to be a good person now that he isn't being forced to do lord Voldemort's bidding. After all, his mother saved my life, and he's got a lot of her in him."

Though a few people looked as though they needed a bit more convincing, a round of applause emanated from Luna and Harry guided Draco over towards his other new recruits. Draco mumbled a quick 'thank you' to Harry as his name was added to the list.

Over the next ten minutes, Harry determined which spells the newer faces could perform out of all those he had taught in his fifth year. Of course, Draco was an excellent, though now shy and modest, duellist, but a couple of others had also mastered most of the spells. As he finally came to the patronus charm, there was a sharp tapping on the window. He quickly let in the eagle owl who was being buffeted around by the train's slipstream and detached the letter from its leg. It flew away and Harry read the letter. He grinned, and slipped it into his pocket.

The long red train ground to a halt outside Hogsmeade station. Harry could hear Hagrid calling the first years at the other end of the platform in his usual booming voice. He headed for the carriages which would take them up to the school. Beside the usual line of thestral-drawn carriages was a slightly larger chestnut brown one. Argus Filch, the school's squib caretaker, held up a yellowing sign beside it, inscribed with the letters 'DADA'. This was to make sure that as few people as possible would know about Harry and the others teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, but it was a largely pointless operation as reporters had dedicated whole sections of the newspapers to this fact. Still, as Harry and the associate professors boarded the magically enlarged carriage, Filch climbed into the driver's seat on top and it began to rumble along the track towards the castle.

The brown carriage reached the front doors of Hogwarts before any of the other carriages due to the second thestral pulling it. Professor McGonagall strode down the steps to meet them and escorted them into the Great Hall.

"Miss Lovegood... I'm sorry. Professor Lovegood, you may sit at the Gryffindor table if you wish. Let houses be no boundary. Professor Potter, your seat is between Professor Hagrid's and my own." She indicated the chair at the staff table between the two largest chairs and led Harry back out into the Entrance Hall. "This window looks across the lake. You might wish to use it to watch for Hagrid." as the first black carriage came to a halt outside the front doors, Professor McGonagall left him by the window and returned to the Great Hall.

Three thundering knocks echoed around the Entrance Hall. Harry pulled open the great oak doors to reveal Hagrid standing in front of a large crowd of first years.

"Hello Hagrid," grinned Harry. "Professor McGonagall said she wanted to talk to you before the sorting began."

"Right you are, Harry," said Hagrid, beaming back at him. Harry led the first years into the Entrance Hall, but not into the usual cramped antechamber. The first years stared in wonder at the size of the room they were in and some looked at the doors opposite those they had just come through, listening to the hum of voices beyond it.

"There are more of you this year than in normal years," began Harry, "due to the number of muggle-borns who were unable to attend last year. I'd first like to apologise for that. Next, I'd like to welcome you to Hogwarts. You will be sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor; Hufflepuff; Ravenclaw; and Slytherin." At the mention of each house, he gestured to the relevant animal on the school crest. "If you perform an achievement worthy of note, your house will be awarded points. Rulebreaking loses you points, even resulting in a negative total." He grimaced at the thought of his sixth year and continued.

"Each house is a noble house, worthy of respect. Some of you may have heard some bad things about Slytherin." He could easily tell who they were. "However, I respect Slytherin as much as any other house. I'm going to tell you something few people know. The truth is that I, myself, was almost sorted into Slytherin. Now, I'm sure they're all waiting for us in there. I certainly know someone who'll be groaning until he gets his food. Look out for the tall, ginger Gryffindor."

Harry led his small crowd into the Great Hall and between the house tables to the very front. Everyone went silent as they made their way up to a battered hat on a stool. Harry left the first years staring at the hat and took his place at the staff table while Professor Flitwick directed the sorting ceremony. Hagrid turned to Harry as the sorting hat began to sing.

"Hello there, 'Professor'," he said, his black eyes crinkling with happiness. Professor McGonagall silenced him with a stern look. It was a very strange experience, looking over the four house tables instead of sitting down there. The staff table was raised above the others, and as such more people were looking at Harry rather than the first years being sorted. The first Slytherin to be sorted scuttled off to his table amongst a frosty round of applause. Harry clapped harder than anyone else, earning himself some strange looks. This continued throughout the whole sorting, by the end of which most people were taking Harry's lead and clapping the Slytherins as much as those sorted into the other three houses. Professor McGonagall stood up as Professor Flitwick took the sorting hat away into the antechamber.

"Welcome, everybody, to another year at Hogwarts. I have a few notices before we can begin the feast, so you'll have to wait a few minutes more, Mr. Weasley. The Forbidden Forest is still forbidden, hence the name. A few of our older students would do well to be reminded of that fact. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has expanded the list of forbidden items to include a few of the more recent Weasley items. There is to be no duelling in the corridors and students are to be in bed by nine. And now, we have some new additions to the staff as always this year. Our new Muggle Studies teacher is Professor Bell..." She indicated the smiling woman to her left, who waved. "...and Defence Against the Dark Arts will be taught by Professor Potter and Professors Weasley, Weasley, Granger, Lovegood and Longbottom." There was a thunderous round of applause, in which Harry turned bright pink. "And with that, I think Professor Weasley is about to die of hunger, so it's time to begin the feast. Tuck in!"


	6. The Fifth House

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for ages - I was in hospital unexpectedly. I did, however, manage to plan the whole of this story, so I'll be updating with more, longer chapters, like this one. Hope you like it!

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It was a strange experience, watching everybody below eating their fill at the house tables. Harry could see Ron stuffing his face eagerly with chicken drumsticks while Hermione and Ginny battered him from both sides in disgust. The new first years, in between shovelling down mouthfuls of food, were staring up at him in awe. Looking over towards the Slytherin table, he saw that it was very empty. Each of the older Slytherin students sat on their own, either wholly occupied with eating or staring at their plates, and the first and second years grouped together, making no contact outside of their group.

"Harry," said McGonagall, leaning over towards him, "it is common practice that the Professors retire to the staff room for a short briefing after the feast. This is especially important for you, considering your situation. Would you join us?"

"Of course," agreed Harry. "May I also bring Hermione?"

"Indeed you may. Why not any of the others?"

"Well, I think the others would rather go straight to bed," explained Harry, "and in any case, she can explain it to me if it all gets too complicated. I'm feeling rather tired, so I might need her there."

"Ah yes. It will be quite complicated." Professor McGonagall returned to her food, where she began to carve up her chicken. Hagrid was making slobbering noises to his right as he ate whole chickens only just faster than Ron.

As dessert came, Harry realised the benefits of being on the staff table. He didn't have to reach through the mountains of ice cream and profiteroles to grab a slice of treacle tart. The golden plates around him filled with just the desserts he wanted, and so most of them were filled with a deliciously sticky treacle tart.

"The elves have excelled themselves once again," commented Harry. He yawned widely and stretched, brushing Hagrid as he did so.

"Ar, yer right there,Harry,"the half giant agreed. "Darn, there goes another feast." The food had disappeared and Ron had dropped his head onto the table below in horror. Professor McGonagall, wincing at Hermione's following slap, rose from her seat and addressed the entirety of the cavernous Great Hall.

"After another marvellous feast, I bid you all goodnight. I know you all want to wake up nice and refreshed for tomorrow's lessons. If Professor Granger could stay behind and the prefects could lead the first years to their respective common rooms, I'd just luck to wish a final good luck for the year ahead."There was the usual deafening scraping of benches as a sea of black rose from the tables like a flock of bats suddenly woken up. Hermione fought her way through a gaggle of third years and walked up to the staff table.

"Ah, thank you Miss Granger. Would you care to join us in the staff room?" Hermione beamed her acceptance, and the teachers trailed off, led by McGonagall. As they approached the gargoyles in the entrance hall, McGonagall called "Viridian" and they immediately sprang aside, allowing the entire column of Professors to enter the now familiar, panelled room without breaking step.

"Filius, Pomona and Horace," called McGonagall, "I'd like to talk to you first with Harry and Hermione." She pulled them away to the other end of the room while the other Professors began murmuring with interest. "The situation with Defence Against the Dark Arts, particularly Harry here, means that the Defence Professors will often be needed to teach at the same time as having lessons with you. Would you three be willing to repeat some of your lessons outside the normal timetable?"

"Of course," agreed Slughorn vehemently, "though I doubt any of them would need it." Professors Sprout and Flitwick also murmured their agreement.

"Good!" exclaimed McGonagall, beaming and turning back to Harry and Hermione. "Now, I must tell you that you will have more than one class, usually, at the same time. If only one of you is teaching, start off the less teacher-intensive class. My final pointer for you two, and for the others, is to call the other Professors by their first names. It helps cohesion. Of course, we're still your Professors in your classes. But anyway, let's get back to the others."

"I can teach you their names if you need it," offered Hermione.

"My fellow Professors," began McGonagall, addressing the room at large, "let's make this year a very good year. We can't let the tragedies of last year affect us. The castle is rebuilt, so let's rebuild our reputation and continue building on the education of the students. This year's timetable will consist of five lessons per day; two in the morning and, according to Septima, that leaves three in the afternoon." The teachers chuckled at this rare show of jollity.

"Most classes, if not all, will be shared classes between two houses, but this year we will have full-year classes. This is instead of having two of the same classes at once. June, I'll talk to you about Head of House duties later. Harry, would you consent to being the eighth year representative?"

"What's that?" he asked, puzzled.

"Oh yes, we forgot to tell you. Everybody retaking their NEWT year is now called an eighth year. There are no houses in the eighth year, so we're building a makeshift fifth hourglass for eighth year points. Don't worry," she added, seeing Harry's questioning but panicked look, "we'll make it fair. Also, the eighth year now has their own common room which we signposted for tonight. Everyone teaching Defence has an office and bedroom just off the common room, which we have to provide as part of your contract. There's no use protesting, Harry."

"Ok," agreed Harry, "I accept." He let out a huge yawn.

"I can see you're tired, Harry," said McGonagall. "You go off to bed and I'll tell Hermione what you'll have to do. You've got a lot ahead of you this year." Harry looked at the Professors one last time with bleary eyes, and waved goodnight to them. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, Vector, Sinistra and Bell all waved back as he turned and headed out of the staff room.

On the opposite wall, just to the left of the staircase, there was a sparkling sign pointing the way upstairs to the eighth year common room. He stumbled up the marble staircase and followed the signs up four more flights of stairs, barely aware of where he was going. The final sign was slightly different, so Harry was shaken from his reverie just long enough for him to notice that it was a wooden sign sticking in a patch of swampland. Slightly puzzled, Harry pushed open the door to the eighth year common room.

"Welcome Harry Potter, eighth year representative. There is currently no password to this door. What would you like the password to be?" Too sleepy to wonder where the voice was coming from, he mumbled "Dumbledore" before sloping off to his room, falling asleep fully clothed before his head hit the pillow.

Harry sat bolt upright, yelling. At least he would have, were it not for a small redhead wrapped around his torso.

"Sorry Harry," mumbled Ginny, looking up from his chest. "I only came in to say good morning..."

"Seriously, Ginny, that's creepy," said Ron. Both Harry and Ginny jumped noticeably as their heads snapped towards the now filled doorway. "I mean, come on, you barely know each other!"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, suddenly annoyed at his best friend's appearance. "We know each other very well, thank you!"

"Ok then," retorted Ron, "what's her favourite dessert?"

"Erm, ice cream?" asked Harry desperately. A scowl crossed Ron's face for a fleeting moment.

"Hm. Fine. I still say you know nothing about her."

"Ronald! What are you doing?!" Hermione's voice yelled as she spotted Ron through Harry's office.

"Your utter prat of a boyfriend here doesn't want me to say good morning to mine!" yelled Ginny "He _claims_ we know nothing about each other!"

"Leave them alone, Ron!" growled Hermione, dragging him out of the room and looking extraordinarily like his mother. "They know each other perfectly well. And tell me," she added as their voices began to fade into the background hubbub, "what's my favourite dessert?" Neither Harry nor Ginny heard Ron answer.

"What's up with him?" asked Harry.

"Oh, just Ron being a hypocrite again. He thinks that because he and Hermione spent the whole of last year getting to know each other so well that he can suddenly disapprove of us again. When will he learn that he doesn't control what I do?" She began to get up. "When I get my hands on him..."

"Calm down. I'll talk to him later. Just leave it to me." Ginny agreed, and left him to get changed after a quick hug. As he pulled on his robes, he looked around the room he was in. It was quite basic, furnished with a wardrobe, a small armchair and the bed he'd been sleeping in. The bed was warm and soft and covered in red sheets which were adorned with the roaring head of a lion.

Harry emerged into a small crowd gathered around his door. Every face in the room was turned towards him, as though expecting him to say something. He looked blankly back.

"Well what are they?" asked George, scratching at his lone ear.

"What are what?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"The new passwords. There's a sign on the noticeboard saying you're choosing the passwords this year. We usually know next week's password by now."

"Well, what is it now?" Harry had no clue that a password had been set.

"Hermione worked it out last night when she came in. She says you'd set it to 'Dumbledore'."

"Well," replied Harry, rubbing his chin, "I'm going to keep 'Dumbledore' for this week, but change it to 'Griphook' for next week. That should be hard to guess, right?" Placated, the crowd dispersed, chatting amongst themselves. Harry searched for his friends, and found Ginny, Luna and Neville sitting together at a small table in the corner. Luna caught his eye and waved at him.

"Hello, Harry. Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, thanks," replied Harry, smiling. "Should we all go to breakfast now?"

"That sounds like a plan," called Ron as he ran past.

"We should all sit together to discuss the timetables, remember?" said Hermione as she hurried after him. Harry walked over to the door and held it open for Ginny, who walked out and waited by the swamp for him. Luna followed, with Neville close behind. As Ron and Hermione completed their circuit of the common room, Ron ducked out and ran along the corridor towards the Great Hall, closely pursued by a blur of bushy hair. Chuckling, Harry, Ginny, Luna and Neville followed them at a more leisurely pace.

Harry walked into the Great Hall to find Ron and Hermione sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, arguing over Ron's stack of toast. The four of them settled around the pair, causing them to fall silent immediately. Harry pulled over a few slices of toast and a pair of juicy sausages and began to devour them hungrily. Soon enough, their timetables arrived via the arms of Professor Bell.

"Ahh, our new Defence Professors! How are you this morning?" They informed her that they were indeed happy, refreshed and ready for the year to come. "Oh, good," she replied, beaming at them, her eyes twinkling and crinkling with unadulterated joy. "Now, here are your timetables, and on the other side is the overall timetable of Defence lessons. Is everything ok?" They all scanned their timetables. Hermione's was the fullest of the lot.

"What's this black box, last thing on Friday?" Harry asked. Nobody else seemed to have one.

"Minerva asked me to tell you to poke it with your wand when you want to see it. Oh, and by the way, you and Ginny are going to have to sort out Quidditch captaincy sometime soon. We didn't know who was going to be captain this year."

"I'm sure we can work something out, Professor," said Harry, smiling at Ginny.

"Harry, call me June. Remember what Minerva said?"

"Oh yes. Sorry, June." Harry smiled apologetically at the new Head of Gryffindor, who carried on handing out timetables, this time to a group of fourth years next to them. Harry jabbed the little black square, which melted under the touch of his wand.

"So, what's happening on a Friday afternoon, then?" asked Ron through a mouthful of bacon.

"Auror training."


	7. The Woodland Room

**A/n: Hi there! Just a little note to say that some giant plot stuff is going to crop up very soon, just in case you were wondering about a lack of wands or woe. Lots of Harry Potter though, eh? But thanks for the reviews so far guys - keep them coming! Requests appreciated too.

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Harry removed his wand from his timetable, allowing the black box to reform. Looking up, he saw the grinning faces of his friends, just as the bell rang to signal the beginning of the first lesson. The Great Hall slowly emptied as Harry turned the timetable over to see what was needed in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Who's got a free first?" asked Harry. We've got a second year class and a fourth year class first, but I've got potions." Ginny and Luna raised their hands.

"We've got Defence together after break, too. We'll do a short introduction then," said Ginny sensibly.

"Excellent. I see you noticed that there's going to be a problem with the people doing both Charms and Defence this year, but I can still teach the double period on Thursday. Anyway, Luna, can you teach the second year class? Maybe introduce them to pixies and their behaviour. Ginny, can you go for the fourth years?" They all agreed on the plan of action, and the two girls headed off. Harry looked round and saw that the Hall was now completely deserted. "Damn it! We're late for our first lesson! Come on, Ron! See you later, Neville!"

"Sorry we're late, Professor," panted Harry as he and Ron burst into the dungeon. There was an outburst of laughter. Even Professor Slughorn was laughing, albeit rather wheezily. Harry and Ron sat down looking confused.

"No matter, no matter. I know thing will be tough for the first week or so." Even this was accompanied by a huge chortle from the rest of the class. Everybody looked extremely happy. "Today, we're learning about combining the art of Potions with a number of other subjects." The class continued to grin, but the laughter began to subside. "For example, if you cast a stunning spell while making a Draught of Living Death, the effects will be much more prolonged, yet much less damaging. If you cast the Body-Bind curse, however, paralysis is added to the potion's effects. Though we can imitate these effects through the modification of the potions, the effects from the spellcasting can be much more precisely controlled.

"I have given the rest of the class a few drops of the Elixir of Laughter, bolstered by a cheering charm. Just a few drops were as potent as a good swig of a normal Elixir. Today, I would like everybody to make the Elixir, just as you did last year, and cast a cheering charm over it. We will go on to measuring the potency of potion effects in the next lesson. Please, no tasting your modified solutions until we have worked out how potent they are. An overdose can cause what?" Hermione's hand shot up, drawing Harry and Ron's attention to her.

"Uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter, Professor. If an even higher dosage is taken, the muscles of the stomach can snap, hence the phrase 'my sides are splitting'," said Hermione proudly.

"Excellent! Twenty points to the fifth house! Now, you have approximately fifty minutes. Begin!" As the class rushed to the ingredients cupboard to obtain the rarer of the ingredients, Harry and Ron caught up with Hermione.

"When did you leave the Great Hall this morning?" asked Ron rudely.

"Just after Harry announced he needed someone else to teach for this lesson. I knew I couldn't, so I decided not to be late for potions. Now let's get on with the Elixir." They grabbed half an ounce of powdered unicorn horn and some powdered moonstone and headed back to their cauldron, where water was bubbling gently over the flame. The Elixir they made was rather good, as Hermione had at least consented to use the less dramatic of the Prince's instructions in Harry's textbook now that they knew who he was. With ten minutes to go, Ron dramatically pulled out his wand.

"Ron! Leave it to me!" instructed Hermione loudly.

"Why can't I cast the spell?" whined Ron. "I never get to do any of the important stuff." Sensing an argument coming along, Harry decided to use diplomacy.

"How about we split the potion into three, and each cast a cheering charm on our own potion?" suggested Harry. Hermione siphoned off three equal portions of the Elixir into smaller cauldrons taken from the pile at the front. She then waved her wand in a complicated fashion and muttered "_gigglius_", causing the potion to glow a light pink for a second. Ron did the same, and got nearly the same result, judging by the glow. It then came to Harry. He wiggled his wand and thought of the funniest thing he could while murmuring the incantation.

Suddenly, the cauldron gave of a great puff of pink smoke, engulfing Harry and Ron. They began to laugh uncontrollably, rolling around on the floor. Hermione, however, attempted to suck the slowly growing cloud from the air with her wand, and was quickly joined by Slughorn. The cloud was eventually stopped halfway across the dungeon, causing a number of outbreaks of giggling from those nearest the trio. Hermione, unfortunately, was not amused.

"Boys," she said, shaking her head.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent most of their morning break outside the Charms classroom, discussing and arguing.

"See? I said you should let me cast the spell on my own," claimed Hermione. "Look what happens when you don't do what I say."

"Yeah, but not for the reason you thought," protested Ron. "You thought it would be me who blew up the potion. Well, surprise, surprise! I actually can do some things. I'm not completely incompetent. You've got to believe in me sometimes."

"Fine," admitted Hermione shortly. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to freshen up." With that, she stalked away with her head held high. As soon as she turned the corner, Ron began to speak to Harry.

"Sorry about all that. We've been going through a bit of a rough patch lately. It's probably my fault somehow. But anyway, I'm sorry for what I said this morning. I was out of line."

"Is this you talking or Hermione?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"Me of course!" Harry raised his eyebrow. "Ok, maybe Hermione told me to give you a year to get to know each other. But if you don't know each other by then, I'll know you don't really care about her. Not that it's not obvious that you don't care about her now," he added hastily.

"Well, boys, you're keen!" Harry and Ron turned sharply to see Professor Flitwick striding towards them as fast as his little legs could carry him. "A bit of wandlore today. I trust you know a bit about that already, eh?"

"Yes, Professor," agreed Harry.

"Filius."

"Sorry. Filius. Oh, and could I make an announcement about the Defence and Charms clash this year? I just need to tell everyone that those doing both Defence and Charms that I'll do their third lesson of the week at the weekend, but tonight this week. It's just a minor timetabling detail."

"Of course, Harry. Why not come in and tell me exactly what you already know about wandlore." By that time, Hermione had come back, and so all four of them went into the Charms classroom. Although most of the class were scratching their heads throughout the entirety of the lesson, it seemed like no time at all before the lunch bell began to ring.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville came out of Charms and walked to the Great Hall, chatting excitedly. They were all glad to be back at Hogwarts, and were looking forward to yet another delicious meal. Having said that, it was common knowledge that Mrs. Weasley's meals were better than those at Hogwarts, but the castle's atmosphere more than made up for it. In fact, Hogwarts often felt more like home than home did to the students. It was big and cavernous, as castles always are, but cosy at the same time, like a cottage.

In the Great Hall, they met up with George, Luna and Ginny. As soon as he saw George, Harry had a sudden brainwave. For George's sake, he decided to wait until they had eaten before mentioning his idea. As George finished eating his cheese on toast, Harry motioned to him and they left the Great Hall.

"What's up, Harry?" he asked.

"I've had an idea for the common room. I want it to be a complete surprise for everyone else though."

"But why do you need me?"

"Because you created the original swamp," grinned Harry. "Yours is the magic I want to use here."

"Fred did most of the swamp," said George sadly, his face falling at the mention of his fallen brother.

"Then let's do this for Fred, in memory of him. I know you can do it." They reached the fifth floor and set to work. It was barely a few minutes before the others came up from lunch, so they worked quickly.

"Wow, Harry! I like what you've done with the place!" Ginny marvelled at the woodland scene before her. Each of the doors from or into the common room had been transformed into rustic-looking hunks of wood entwined with thick vines, and the room had a sense of life about it. The tables and chair looked like tree stumps, and the fluting around the edge of the room looked like the tree trunks of a forest.

"It was all George really," Harry said.

"Wow, George! This is marvellous!" exclaimed Angelina. Everybody looked round to the door where she was standing.

"What are you doing here?" asked George.

"Well that's a nice way to greet me, isn't it? Never mind. I had a word with McGonagall and she said I could retake that Defence NEWT I failed a couple of years ago. I'd never have been able to retake it here without this common room, so this was my only chance. You will have me, won't you Harry?"

"Sure. Do you want to do the weekend lesson with me or the Monday lesson with Ginny?" asked Harry in acceptance. Angelina frowned with thought.

"Well, I'll probably go for Ginny's lessons. That leaves the weekends free." Harry grinned at her as she walked over to sit beside George.

"It's like having the whole of the gang back together," commented Ron. "Who are we going to have back next? Katie Bell?" They looked round at the door again, just in case. Unfortunately, no familiar face was to be found. Looking back to where George was sitting, Harry saw that there was a glint in George's eye that he hadn't seen for a long while. He seemed to be discussing things in a low voice with Angelina, who nodded frequently.

Harry looked at his watch, which featured a number of stars around the edge, grouped in an odd pattern. He spent a few moments interpreting the pattern. It took a little longer than for other wizards, but he was slowly getting the hang of the gift.

"I'd better get to class, guys," he announced. "Anybody else want to come?" Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna all decided to come, seeing as it was a first year class, so they all rose from their woodland seats, Ginny from the arm of Harry's, and walked to the classroom.

The first years were lining up outside the classroom on the sixth floor as the bell rang. They began to mutter amongst themselves, wondering where their teacher was. Suddenly, a Hufflepuff boy spoke out.

"When's our teacher gonna get here?" he whined.

"_Expelliarmus!_" muttered Harry from behind a tapestry of a hag and a vampire in a chapel. The boy's wand flew out of his hand, caught by Ron from behind a suit of armour.

"A true master of the Defence Against the Dark Arts is ready for any surprise," said Hermione from behind a statue at the other end of the line. Ginny wound up a Decoy Detonator and pushed it on its way down the corridor. Everybody turned to watch it, and were so enthralled by it that they didn't notice Neville stumbling around a giant vase to throw Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into the air. Under cover of darkness, Luna played her part by scooping up the Decoy Detonator before it got away.

As the darkness cleared, the first years found the six Defence Professors standing in front of them, like a superhero squad. Harry twirled the Hufflepuff's wand between his fingers and began to address the speechless crowd of first years.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts is like no other subject. It is not just remembering a bunch of incantations and complicated wand movements, nor is it the subtle art of simmering solutions. With any luck, Defence will be the most exciting subject you do, but it is also the most serious and the most dangerous. It will never, as History of Magic, stay the same.

"Every situation in which you need to use this subject is unique. The Dark Arts are always changing, and so you too should be prepared to change with them. Times are still as dark as ever, and so it's up to you to bring some light to the world."

"But isn't You-Know-Who dead?" asked a Ravenclaw.

"You-Know-Who isn't the only dark wizard out there. Many of his Death Eaters are still at large, and there have been many more dark wizards leading their own cults across the world. Now that Voldemort has been defeated, there are many more people vying to take up his mantle." Harry noticed that all of the first years flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "A great man once told me that the fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. There's no reason to fear him now, so why fear the name? Anyway, come on in. I can see some of you are getting tired out here."

"Can I have my wand back?" asked the young Hufflepuff as he passed Harry.

"Of course, but you've got to take it from me," Harry replied. The Hufflepuff wrested it from his grip, and Harry grinned at him. "Ten points to Hufflepuff." As the class sat down, every face was turned to his, rapt with attention. He grinned at Ginny and put Lupin's briefcase on the desk. Opening it, he found Lupin's complete set of notes, which were much more detailed than their own, but on top of those was a letter addressed to him. "Can you take over for a while?" he asked the others.

Harry opened his letter as he sat at his desk, listening to the others all answering questions about the Dark Arts and Defence against them, a lot of them about their exploits against Voldemort. Silently, he began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you are reading this, I'm dead. I knew it would happen some day, but I could never have told you when. At the moment, you're out searching for I don't know what, but I hope you're trying to save us from You-Know-Who. There are many people I know who would be great at such a job, but I understand that if Dumbledore didn't think you were up to it. I trust in Dumbledore, and therefore realise that you are a truly capable wizard._

_There are very few people, however, who I would trust to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, as so few people know the Dark Arts. I hope that one day you will be able to teach others about the Dark Arts, as well as combating them. If you indeed decide to go down this route, I've prepared a few notes for you. I've used the magic of the Marauders' Map to make them tell you what they need to know next, based on what they already know. hopefully this should make it much easier for you, though you'll probably want to go off on a tangent quite often, as it's not perfect._

_Nevertheless, I hope that these are useful to you. I've also written a few more letters which you'll find when you need them. However, for now I must bid you farewell. Your father would be proud of you._

_Good Luck,_

_Moony._


	8. Beginnings

**A/N: Apologies for the incredibly long wait between the last two chapters. I'm amazed at how busy I've been, with exams and numerous projects on the go. However, I promised to keep writing this, and as such, I will. The next chapter will take a lot less time to write as I get back into the flow of it. I will not stop, and will follow my plan to the end, hopefully writing another seven books. I thank all those who have stuck with me over this long period, and will never let you down.

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Harry walked into the transfiguration classroom grinning broadly, still running his first lesson ever through his head. He was very proud of the young Slytherin who had asked him whether Voldemort had been in Slytherin. Harry had taken the opportunity to say that, although Voldemort had been in Slytherin, the house was no less noble than any of the others.

"Each house is defined by who is in it now, not by who used to be in it," Harry had announced. He had no clue where that had come from, but it sounded good nonetheless. Ginny had smiled at him, at least. Ah, her smiles were like gold. Each of them were worth more to him than anything else in the world. He closed his eyes and smiled as he thought of Ginny.

"Oi, Harry! Wake up! McGonagall's just asked you a question!" Ron was nudging him in the ribs while hissing this warning.

"What was the question?" Harry asked subtly. He could see McGonagall was watching him expectantly, and put on an expression of deep thought.

"She asked why making something invisible was harder than vanishing it," Ron muttered. Hermione scowled at him in disapproval, reminding Harry of something she had told him during one of their revision sessions last year.

"Is it because of the fact that rendering something invisible involves the creation of an image of what is behind the object from all sides while maintaining the structure of the object, whereas vanishing an object merely moves it into nothingness?" asked Harry. Professor McGonagall smiled at him and nodded.

"Yes," she confirmed. "That is the general gist of it. It's incredibly hard to maintain the form and not the image of an object, which is what true invisibility is. Some attempt to create an image of what is behind an object to make it seem invisible, but the image has to change depending on what angle you view it at. It is therefore easier to do this if you are only trying to hide something from a few angles, such as disguising a door as part of a wall, or making a wall invisible from the outside in observation rooms in Azkaban. However, in most cases, true invisibility is preferable and easier."

"Thanks, Ron," whispered Harry. Ron grinned and winked at Harry, who knew Ron wouldn't have been so helpful if he'd known what he was thinking about. He grinned back, however, happy also at the glowing look he was now receiving from Hermione. She was probably amazed that someone had bothered to listen to her, but Harry and Ron both secretly hung on her every word when it came to the exams. They would never admit it, though.

The day ended like a DA session, where the fifth years were being taught by Harry, with the help of a few DA members, about duelling. A couple of people could cast _expelliarmus_, but the first lesson was spent teaching this for those who didn't know it, just as in the first ever DA meeting. Everyone was smiling, and the fifth years claimed it was the best lesson they had ever had.

Harry plonked himself into his favourite carved chair beside the fireplace and the others settled around him. Ginny and Luna hadn't yet arrived in the common room, and so the seats rapidly began to fill up without them. Almost the last to arrive, Luna eventually floated in, followed by Ginny. They searched for a seat, but found none, so eventually settled on the arms of Harry's seat, making George snigger like a cheeky schoolboy.

Harry scowled at George as the redhead winked at him and turned back to Angelina. They were having yet another avid discussion, which looked something like shrewd bargaining. Harry wrapped his arms around the two seventh years on his seat to raucous laughter and began to address the group of people who had approached them, announcing that he was too lazy to start anything now.

Instead, Harry pulled Ginny onto his lap, folding her in a big hug. As he did so, there was a tapping on the window behind him. Ron stumped over to the window to let in a greying barn owl. Just as he was turning away from the window, something occurred to him, and he stuck his head out of the window.

"How is there a window in here? I thought the armour gallery was behind us."

"It is," replied Hermione. "That window shouldn't exist. But anyway, come back here." Ron reluctantly closed the window and traipsed back over to Harry's chair, where Harry was opening the letter. "Read it out," he urged. Harry cleared his throat and began to read, having decided that there was nothing he needed to leave out.

"_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Thank you once again for thinking of me for this position in the present diplomatic affairs. I am greatly honoured. However, I am having some trouble creating goblin wands. _

_The wands only work for wizards as the materials we use are powerful only to us. Goblins derive their power from other sources. Of course, the wands do work in a diminished capacity, more diminished than when trying to use another's wand, but the deal you made was for fully functioning wands._

_Do you have an idea as to what goblin wands may need to be made from to enable quality spellcasting? If so, please reply as soon as possible, as we cannot continue without this information.#_

_Kind Regards,_

_Mr. A. Ollivander_"

Harry looked up from the letter to see that it had amassed quite a crowd. Rolling his eyes, he folded the letter and put it back in its envelope.

"Clear off, you nosy parkers!" said Ron, reminding everyone of the way his mother cleared unwanted crowds of people. "Harry, Charlie always told me that they really like money and gems and stuff. You know how they're always going on about their silver artefacts. Why not make goblin wands out of silver?"

"Don't be silly, Ron," scoffed Hermione. "You can't make wands out of silver. You have to use wood from a wand tree. The core is useless without wand wood."

"Well," Harry called over the two of them, "it's the best option we have at the moment. We may as well give it a try. I'm going to write to him now, _just_ suggesting it. There's no harm in that." Hermione's cheeks grew flushed and Ron cheered up visibly. Harry quickly scribbled his reply, then released the owl, which flew to the window that Ron now held open.

The distraction over, Harry settled back in his chair, thankful that there was no homework, as there usually was on the first day of term. He closed his eyes and lay back, almost drifting off to sleep, were it not for the slight pressure on his lap as Ginny sat on him. As the murmur of voices in the background faded, he became vaguely aware of someone standing behind him. He opened his eyes, blinking in the light of the common room.

"Could I... talk to you... in private, Harry?" asked Draco Malfoy tentatively.

"Sure thing," Harry replied. "Sorry, Ginny." Ginny got up so that Harry could do likewise. He followed Draco to a secluded corner doused in a light shadow. Draco was looking at his feet, seemingly unable to begin speaking. Puzzled at this, Harry began to speak, but Draco then found his voice.

"I... I just wanted to say... Thanks..." he muttered.

"But why?" asked Harry. "I mean, we were on different sides, right?" Harry knew he'd put it bluntly, but he didn't know any other way to say it. A crimson flush blossomed on both boys' cheeks and they both avoided each other's gaze.

"Well, yes, I suppose so. But I couldn't say no. He would have killed me. But if it weren't for you, I'd... I wouldn't be here right now. This place is more like a home to me than my family's manor." Draco paused, not used to opening up to someone, especially not someone who used to be, as Harry subtly put it, on the other side. "And I wanted to thank you for what you did for my parents."

"It was no problem, Draco. I mean, in the end, your parents wanted to leave Voldemort." Draco flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Sorry," Harry muttered. "There was no way your parents could get away, and that's as bad as Azkaban in my opinion. Why should they spend two sentences, especially your mother? There's no need to thank me."

Draco nodded curtly to Harry, and hurried off to his dormitory. Baffled, Harry continued back to his seat, marvelling yet again at the luxuries of the eighth year. By the time he had returned to his seat it had been commandeered by both Ginny and Luna, both of whom beamed at him as he approached. Since last year they had become so alike. Luna was no longer called Loony by anyone, and she was almost as fun-loving as Ginny herself.

"What was that all about?" asked Ron nosily.

"Mind your own business," chided Hermione, smiling. Harry sat on the floor beside his now-stolen chair and thought back to the case involving the Malfoys. Harry had received a letter from the Ministry a few days after the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been escorted to the Ministry in one of the Ministry cars, and had eventually been taken up to the Minister's office.

As he passed the hall where Umbridge's office had been, he noticed with a smile that the witches and wizards sat at the rows of desks were now folding mundane leaflets. They had titles such as _How to Hide your Home from Muggles_ and _20 Spells you Need to Know_. Looking past the desks, Harry's eye rested on a single door. No longer was there a circular hole in the door, but instead a new bronze plaque, glinting in the magical sunlight, indicated who the new occupant of the office was. Harry tried to read the curly script from afar.

"Mr. A. Weasley. – Head of the Department of Muggle Cooperation." Harry spun around to see Mr. Weasley behind him, grinning broadly. "It's only a small department, sharing Level Five with the Department of International Magical Cooperation, so they thought we ought to be named something similar. Nevertheless, we're the foremost authority on Muggles, their lives and how to get on with them now. And it's all thanks to you, Harry. I just got the owl today from the Minister and you're the first to know."

"Is he officially the Minister then?" asked Harry.

"He'll be officially asked to stay on fully by the Wizengamot later this week, but he's already started with the reforms. The Ministry will be back up and running in no time." Harry shook Mr. Weasley's hand and bade him farewell as he turned to enter the Minister's office at the prompting of his secretary. "Good luck," replied Mr. Weasley.

"Do take a seat, Harry," said the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, kindly.

"I hear your position has been made permanent, sir," said Harry as he sat down. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Harry," smiled Kingsley, "but there's no need to call me sir. But anyway, Harry, seeing as you are widely regarded as the saviour of the wizarding world, which you are, I thought I ought to first thank you for everything, and secondly to ask you what you think the new Ministry should focus on."

"An extremely wise hat once told me I would do well in Slytherin. However, what I'd heard about Slytherin made me ask to be put in any house but that one. Later on, that hat told us all to stick together through the toughest of times. Eventually, that hat led to the downfall of Voldemort, not once, but twice. Also, a good friend of mine gave me one of the best insights into the mind of that man, telling me that he would want disarray and for me to be alone. Friendship has always been the Dark Lord's downfall, in one form or another, and so there's just one thing I want from the Ministry.

"Friendship and cooperation with all, whether they be house elf, Muggle, centaur or Malfoy."


	9. Roast Potatoes

**A/N: Thanks for bearing with me, ladies and gentlemen. I'm gradually getting back up to my old speed of writing again, and I'm writing the finale whenever I'm not writing this first part of the story. I don't want to blow my own trumpet but... it's gonna be gooood... :D Hopefully...

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Harry woke up, bleary-eyed, early the next morning. He silently got dressed and crept through the common room so as not to wake anyone. Though the bare stone was cold on his feet, he padded down the many staircases without shoes or socks. A few of the windows on the way were still broken, and as he passed them a chill wind caused him to draw his cloak more tightly around himself. He pushed open the door to the Great Hall and smiled as he saw that his place had already been furnished with breakfast.

As the smell of fried eggs and sausages wafted over and caressed his nostrils, Harry walked up to the staff table, behind which were situated the giant house hourglasses. He smiled as he looked up at the fifth hourglass, the top bulb filled with diamonds. Over the next hour, the Great Hall filled like his stomach and he was joined by the rest of the teachers.

"Why aren't yeh wearing any shoes, Harry?" asked Hagrid.

"Early morning," explained Harry, stretching. "Oh, Hagrid. What are you doing this morning?"

"Nothin'. Why?"

"I have an idea."

Ten minutes later, Harry walked fully shod into the sixth floor classroom that he liked to use. He sat in the simple chair at the front of the classroom and brought the battered case onto the desk. He opened it to see his plan forming in front of him, written by an invisible hand in the cursive script of his best Defence teacher. There was even a little added note saying that Lupin thought his idea was fantastic, making Harry smile.

As the bell rang, there was a slight commotion at the door, Hagrid dragging in a crate with holes bored into it. Harry glimpsed a handful of curious second year faces before the door closed.

"_Accio_," muttered Harry, and the door opened. The second years filed in, mostly quietly, and took their places behind their desks, some standing and waiting to be told to sit down. These were some very polite second years, and Harry smiled as he bid them to take their seats.

"Professor Lovegood," began Harry, never having imagined that he would utter those two words together, "and Professor Longbottom have introduced you all to the topic for Defence this year. It is one that was taught very badly in my year, and I hope to do this fantastic subject justice. Professor Hagrid here has kindly agreed to collaborate with me on this very exciting subject, as it's something I learned in his lessons. You will be starting these next year.

"Magical creatures can be very dangerous. Many wonder why they come into Defence Against the Dark Arts, but the dark arts, as well as the defence against them, rely on using what you have and what's around you to your advantage. Barnabas the Barmy, of whom you can see a tapestry in this castle, did more than just train trolls for the ballet. He was successful in getting them to attack his foes in his moments of sanity.

"Defence is also needed for jobs such as being a curse-breaker. Curses can often involve the conjuration of a magical beast to attack those who the curse targets. And thus, we need to know how to fight magical creatures. Not only that, but we need to know when to merely incapacitate them, when to placate them, or even when to befriend them."

He and Hagrid began a series of lessons dealing with the exemplar of bowtruckles. Small creatures though they may be, they could become dangerous when threatened. Hagrid had brought a number of wand tree saplings along, so that the creatures could get used to them and, in time, learn to see them as their own. Then, the lessons could really begin.

As the second years were introduced to their bowtruckles, an owl flew through the open window and landed on Harry's shoulder. It was small, grey and fluffy, and was the owl used to carry memos between the teachers. From the slant of the writing, he could tell it was from the headmistress herself. He took the crisply folded piece of parchment and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_As you know, you are going to be studying with the Auror office this year. The head auror, Gawain Robards, has just arrived at the school in order to meet with you this lunchtime. He requests your presence in my office as soon as you have finished your lunch. Talking of which, Albus always loved his roast potatoes. I should get the elves to cook them more often._

_Kind Regards,_

_Minerva._

_P.S. Apologies for going off on a tangent. I know you'll understand._

Harry folded up his letter and flashed a quick smile at Hagrid, who was looking at him expectantly. He stroked the little owl, which hooted and flew off again, and hurried over to a pair of Hufflepuffs struggling with their bowtruckle. The small, log-like creature was flailing in the grip of the young boys, drawing blood. Stoic as Hufflepuffs were, they didn't let go.

By the end of the lesson, every pair had gained the trust of their bowtruckle. Even the pair of Hufflepuffs had a kind of wary acquaintance with theirs. Each pair quickly constructed a large cage with a flick of their wands and carved their names on it, so that they could tell which bowtruckle was theirs. Finally, they put the cages against the walls of an extremely large neighbouring classroom, and into them they carefully placed their bowtruckles and wand tree saplings.

As the second years – more than an eighth of the entire student body of Hogwarts – filed out of the cavernous room, Harry conjured up a wrought iron key and locked the door with a clunk. Somehow, it was as if the clunk of the key was followed by another clunk, at the same time audible and non-existent. Harry, having had a Muggle upbringing, was reminded instantly of the classic image of mechanisms suddenly whirring into life in his head.

The next lessons flew past until it was suddenly lunchtime. The speed at which he wolfed down his food even rivalled that of Ron as he hurried to get to his meeting. No matter how much Hermione insisted that it didn't matter, Harry was convinced that being any later than possible would make a bad first impression. With cries of protest from Hermione, Ron and Ginny, he ran back out of the hall barely five minutes after he had entered and took the stairs three at a time to McGonagall's office.

"Roast potatoes," said Harry breathlessly to the gargoyle. It respectfully stepped aside, no longer with its usual vigour, to let Harry clamber up the moving staircase. He waited for a few moments before the imposing door in order to catch his breath, then knocked.

"Come in," called a familiar voice. Harry opened the door to find Professor McGonagall sitting behind her desk, with a tall man standing just behind her, wearing a black robe that seemed darker than ordinary robes. "I'll leave you two to it then," she said when she saw it was Harry. She left the room, and the man took her chair. He began to speak just as the door clicked shut for a second time.

"Now, Harry, I imagine your thoughts are full of first impressions. I can also tell that you rushed your lunch and are quickly regretting it. That in itself does not give a good first impression. From that I am disappointed. I imagined you to be better." Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"However," the man, presumably Robards, continued, holding his hand up to Harry, "first impressions are never the truth. You of all people should know the Muggle phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'. Let this be your first lesson, and one that I am sure you have learnt many times. It's the most important lesson you will learn, and you will realise it again, just as you did today, many times over.

"The second and final lesson today, you have already learned, at least in part. Never rush your meals. They are one of the most important things to you and must never be sacrificed when possible. The top priority of an Auror in a normal situation is to survive for the more important battles. There is such a thing as being too noble, and I know you are extremely noble." Harry began to speak again, but, once again, Robards held up his hand for silence.

"Don't pretend you aren't, Harry. We all know you are. The only problem is just that. You're famous, and nearly everyone in the wizarding world has followed your exploits. People are talking of books, here. Every possible dark wizard out there knows how noble you are, and they will always try to take advantage of that. You have to be improbable, unpredictable, ever-changing.

"But anyway, my apologies if you didn't follow some of that. I don't have quite the way with words as the man who will be training you. Talking of which, he will be training you once a fortnight as that is all we can spare him for. The other lessons, you will be teaching. I gather you have the hang of that now. Here are a few prompts written by our top trainer that you may find useful."

As Robards pushed the piece of parchment across the desk towards Harry, there was a light jangling from his pocket. He pulled out a pocket watch, opened it and looked at it.

"Something's come up. I have to leave. I will talk to you at a later date." With that, he threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace, muttered some sort of long code, and disappeared into the emerald flames. Harry was left staring at the fire, at where the head of the Auror office had just been, bewildered by the brevity of the conversation.

"Sorry about that, Harry," said McGonagall, entering her office once more. "We thought there'd be enough time for a proper conversation, given that, well, they have less work to do now. All thanks to you, of course. However, the supply of dark wizards is endless. Everybody's queuing to don Voldemort's mantle."

"That's ok," said Harry, finally turning away from the fireplace. "I understand completely. It's just... there's so much I wanted to ask him. I never really got a chance this summer."

"I'm sure you'll be able to talk to him during the Christmas break. I'll make sure of it. Nevertheless, I've just been talking to Hagrid, Pomona, Horace, June and Filius. We were planning on making a memorial garden in the Hogwarts grounds and we wanted your input. Would you like to join us tonight in the grounds?"

"Of course. I think I've got a few ideas that might interest you."

That evening, Harry, McGonagall, Hagrid and the four heads of houses met just outside Hagrid's cabin. Harry was the last to arrive and was welcomed enthusiastically by the professors. They walked into the fringe of the forbidden forest, where the trees weren't so dense, and up to a fence about a hundred metres in from where the trees began.

"Hagrid has kindly helped me to fence off an area of forest around its edge," explained Flitwick. "We were planning on putting the memorial garden somewhere within this belt of trees. Besides, the fence will deter some of our more... adventurous students from exploring the Forbidden Forest. I seem to remember that you had your fair share of ventures into the forest," he chuckled. Harry grinned back sheepishly.

"I can see the benefit of the fence," Harry agreed diplomatically. "Talking about the garden, though, I believe that it should be hidden from view. This way, it can be more peaceful, so that people can properly remember those who fell."

"I agree," piped up the young Professor Bell, still nervous about speaking up among her more experienced colleagues. "Shall we, I don't know, look for a suitable spot? It doesn't have to be perfect. We do have, well, magic, you know."

"Very true, June," exclaimed Slughorn in his jolly, booming voice, rubbing his hands together. "Let's split up, the faster ones of us scouting out good areas, so that we can have a good look at them." He chuckled heartily once more. "I bet you were going to say that, weren't you, Harry m'boy! Just the sort of thing you'd say." Harry winked at Slughorn, in what he hoped was the way Slughorn acted.

Harry summoned his broom, McGonagall transformed into a cat and Flitwick conjured a floating purple cushion, tastefully adorned with golden tassels, and the three of them zoomed off, marking each spot with a globe of light.

"Come along then, ladies!" boomed Slughorn.


	10. First Year Magic

**A/N: I know I'm using the Author's Note to apologise every time, so I'm just going to skip that and announce that I'm in the middle of my holiday, which has had very few opportunities to write on the computer. The finale is getting written by hand though, and I can announce that there will be a sequel to this story. I really hope you enjoy this longer chapter and, in the future, the finale. Finally, I'd like to shout out to my sister, who's been very helpful... always.**

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The sun began to set in the distance, silhouetting the mountains and topping them with haloes of orange and gold. The clouds created red and purple stripes in the dark blue sky as seven robed figures gathered outside a large thicket on the edge of a forest. The figure who looked remarkably cat-like raised what looked like a small twig and pointed it at the edge of the thicket. Two trees growing close together began to tremble, and their trunks bowed outwards slightly, so that a man could just squeeze between them.

Harry clambered through the gap between the slender silver birch and the broad oak, brushing through the bushes that lined the barely discernible path beyond. It wound almost halfway around the thicket until it finally opened up into the clearing inside. The ground was raised so that the trees would cast less shadow, and steps carved into the side by the time Harry had come through behind the rest of the professors. Flitwick was twirling his wand, surrounded by a swirling cloud of stones.

As the stones fell down to the ground, forming a series of paths around the area, an inordinate number of potted plants were zooming towards Professor Sprout from the greenhouses. McGonagall and Professor Bell directed a number of coniferous shrubs to lay out a plan that they had drawn up, splitting the area into six smaller parts, plus a larger semicircular part at the end. Sprout waved her wand so that the shrubs bulked out, blocking each of the different sections from the view of the others.

"Ok, everybody take a section. Design it how you like, just don't go overboard." McGonagall then headed for her own section, and the others followed suit. Harry was left with the larger end section as a mark of thanks, but the professors didn't let this slip. He planned to return every day to tend the plants in this area, until McGonagall was to announce the opening of the garden.

"Where've you been?" called Ron from a sofa as soon as Harry returned. Harry put a hurt look onto his face, though it was clearly laced with a hint of amusement.

"Oh hush, Ron," murmured Hermione from his lap. She was curled up there with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face. Ron grinned at Harry and stroked her hair in response, pressing the issue no further.

"You're my best friend, Ron. Where would I be if I didn't trust you? I'll tell you at breakfast tomorrow, where there are fewer people to overhear us." Ron's look grew puzzled. "It's a secret, Ronald," grinned Harry. "Anyway, where's Ginny?"

"Oh hush, Harry," murmured Hermione. Harry smirked, but the next moment he yelled and leapt into the air. He turned round quickly to find a small redhead behind him, giggling hard, her eyes flashing wickedly. Hermione opened her eyes, scowling at the pair of them. "Please, is there no such thing as peace and quiet?"

"Sorry, Hermione," intoned Harry, Ron and Ginny at the same time. Hermione rolled her eyes and settled back down. Harry led Ginny away, so as to not disturb Hermione further. "Hi there, Gin," he said, sitting down on another sofa and motioning for Ginny to sit beside him.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she replied with mock surprise, "I didn't see you there. Where on earth have you been?"

"Ah, that, my dear, is a secret," he replied, tapping his nose conspiratorially.

"You don't keep secrets from me, do you, Harry?" asked Ginny plaintively, sticking out her bottom lip as far as it would go. Harry leant forward and kissed her pouting lips.

"Of course not. There's too many people to overhear here though." Ginny smiled and threw her arms around his neck. They laughed for a while as they hugged. "What are you going to do with your first paycheque?" Harry asked.

"What paycheque?" asked Ginny, bewildered. "I don't even have a job."

"Yes you do," Harry reminded her. "You're an Associate Professor of Defence. That's a very important job. In fact, we're all getting paid. The normal Defence Professor's salary is being split between all of us." He grinned as her jaw dropped, and carefully closed it for her. "Why don't you sleep on it?"

The next morning, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the top end of the Gryffindor table. Neville was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Hannah Abbott. The two had become quite close after the battle of Hogwarts, having ended up fighting together on the front line with the Herbologists. George was in school today as he had lessons, and so was sitting with Angelina, leaving Verity in charge of the shop.

"There's going to be a memorial garden in the forest for those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts," whispered Harry to Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

"Why's that a secret?" asked Hermione. "And why's it in the forest? That's not very safe. You know it's forbidden for good reason."

"Hagrid's fenced off the fringe of the forest. We can go there, but not into the heart of the forest. Thinking about it, it's high time the forest was fenced off. First-years could easily just wander in there, not knowing how dangerous it is."

"Or second-years," said Ron. They all laughed as they remembered how Harry and Ron had plunged into the Forbidden Forest, chasing spiders, in their second year. Meanwhile, George had just opened a letter, delivered by an owl coloured purple with yellow stars. He scanned the letter, his smile growing broader with every line he read. Eventually he stood up and walked up to McGonagall.

"I wonder what George is up to," mused Harry.

"Oh, it's probably something wildly silly and immature," scoffed Hermione. "What I'm really curious about is your upcoming Auror training lesson. What do you think you'll learn first?"

"Oh, it's not going to be training for me. I'm going to teach this week, and be taught next week. It's so it doesn't put so much strain on the trainers, having me being taught here."

"Cool," said Ron in awe. "What will you teach that the other trainees don't already know?"

"Well," Harry replied cryptically, "I was planning on teaching a little unorthodox first year magic." Harry left it at that, and refused to tell them exactly what he would teach. Nevertheless, they all had Charms the next lesson and they didn't let up in pestering him for information. A distraction came in the form of the diminutive Professor Flitwick approaching.

"Could you four either split up or concentrate on the task at hand, please. This is your NEWT year – perhaps the most important year of your life."

"Yes, Professor," they intoned.

"Oh, and Harry, could you post this up on the eighth year notice board?" Flitwick handed Harry a sheet of parchment and returned to his desk at the front of the classroom. Meanwhile, Ron snatched the parchment from Harry's hand in order to read the notice.

"Awesome!" he exclaimed, amidst receiving punches from Hermione. "They've called an early Hogsmeade weekend."

"When is it?" asked Harry. He had been looking forward to taking Ginny somewhere nice during the first Hogsmeade weekend, but hadn't expected it until at least the end of October.

"Saturday," replied Ron to great surprise, including from those just around them. "But it says that anybody planning to go to Hogsmeade must be in the Entrance Hall, ready to leave, by eleven o'clock in the morning." He passed the note back to Harry. "I'm never going to be up for that!" They all chuckled, and Ginny nodded fervently. By this time, the message had got all the way around the classroom, so everyone was talking about the event.

"Please," squeaked Flitwick, "could you concentrate on your work! Harry, I expected better of you. You should be responsible now."

"I'm really sorry, Professor," apologised Harry.

"That's ok," smiled Flitwick. "I know how irksome Weasley can be." He winked at Ron and returned to the heavy book he had been writing in. Ron looked hurt, shocked and amused at the same time, before turning back to the essay he was writing on wandlore.

"I can't wait until we get to the practical part though," Ron grumbled.

"That won't be too far away," said Hermione brightly. "We've got supersensory charms coming up soon. They would have been really useful last year."

"And the year before," said Harry. "We could have listened in to what Malfoy was up to. We could have prevented the whole thing. Nobody needed to have died, and nobody needed to have got hurt." Harry had a faraway look on his face as he said this, one that was filled with regret. Ginny put her arms around him.

"It wasn't your fault," she murmured to him. "You can't blame everything on yourself, you know. And Dumbledore was going to die anyway. He chose how he would die, and he wouldn't let you stop that. Everything has played out the way it has, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I, personally, wouldn't change anything for the world." She stroked his hair at this last sentence and planted a kiss on his cheek. This seemed to snap him out of his reverie.

"You're right," he conceded. "You're always right."

Friday came quicker than expected, and in no time at all, Harry was heading for his lesson after lunch, after which he would be teaching this year's intake of trainee Aurors. He reached the classroom to find the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws lining up, and smiled as a handful of them were still bouncing with joy to see him. He ushered them in and sat on the desk at the front, facing them.

"You've been told what Defence Against the Dark Arts is all about. It's a matter of safety, for you and those around you, whether they be wizards or Muggles. As witches and wizards, you now have the responsibility to look over those without magic. You are not superior to them in any way.

"The main problem we have faced for centuries is people setting a lot by blood status. Purebloods set themselves above half-bloods, and Muggle-borns, tastefully known as mudbloods, were almost as low as Muggles and Squibs. And from this came many of the dark arts.

"But, back to your responsibility. I am going to teach you the most basic spell you need to defend yourselves with, and I believe you should know this from your first day at this school. It is the shield charm. Unfortunately, to better learn the shield charm, you need to know an offensive spell so that you can practise it in pairs.

"Therefore I will teach you the disarming spell, which I learned in the second year. It will also help you to defend yourselves, but remember that you are only allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts in the most dangerous of situations. Now, everybody split up into pairs and spread yourselves around the classroom." The second years followed Harry's instructions and were soon paired up and spread out. Harry's fame was enough to prevent any misbehaviour, at least at this point in the year.

"Now," Harry continued, "I'm going to place a cushioning charm on the floor, just in case one of you manages to cast the spell a little off and knock your partner off their feet rather than their wand out of their hand. The incantation for the spell is '_expelliarmus_'. Everybody repeat that." There was a rumble of voices as they each mumbled the incantation. "_Mollius,_" muttered Harry as he cast the charm.

"Did you see my wand twitch slightly as you all said that? That was the combined power of all of you trying to disarm me. With any luck, we'll get each of you properly disarming people by the end of this double period. Halfway through, I'll be replaced by my good friend Professor Weasley, who will continue the lesson."

Harry walked around the classroom, helping pairs as they needed it. He corrected their wand movements and their pronunciation, and even tried to make them visualise the spell working in order to 'show' their wands what they wanted to achieve. By the time he had to leave for the Auror training, there were a handful of wands jumping an inch and a couple of successful disarms. Harry told them to carry on practising until Ron came along, and headed down the corridor to a classroom indistinguishable from the others from the outside.

He sat on the desk at the front again, but this time faced the side, where there was a large fireplace. Strangely, one of the wrought iron mini-pillars that made up the decoration around the front of the fire was bent outwards. Flames suddenly roared to life in the grate, sparkling as green as Harry's own eyes, and a line of witches and wizards trooped out of the fire. The majority of them were no more than three years older than Harry, somewhere around twenty, and a couple were in their late thirties or early forties, clearly headed for the part-secretarial, part-research jobs in the Auror office, sent to gain an understanding of what the Aurors in the field went through, as well as to learn some vital research techniques.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began Harry, pushing the decorated iron bar back to its original upright position, "my name is Harry Potter, and I have been tasked with sharing my experiences of the Dark Arts with you. I am supposed to teach things that an education at Hogwarts, or other magical institutions, would not necessarily teach you. Hopefully, at the end of the year, I should be able to join you in further Auror training.

"Now, my first lesson is on entry. By that, I mean how to get into places people don't really want you going. If you could only go where people wanted you to go, no dark wizards would ever be caught, as I'm sure you realise. But then again, you too need to be able to prevent those very same dark wizards from getting into your homes or places needing high security. Therefore, there is always going to be a balance of access and the prevention of access, as new security measures are systematically invented and thwarted.

"Oh," said Harry, remembering something, "I am supposed to give you the opportunity to ask questions, so... any questions?" An older witch raised her hand politely, but a young man close to the front, who had worn a rather superior expression since seeing Harry, called out.

"Why are we being taught by someone barely out of Hogwarts?" he asked rudely. "Surely you can't believe that you know better than us, and surely we should be taught by someone with more experience."

"Yes," conceded Harry, "those are very good points." He didn't want to call the man out on his rudeness and make a fuss. "I do not believe that I know better than you, and neither do I believe that I know more than you. However, as I am teaching at Hogwarts, it would be rude for an instructor to come up to this castle once a week without giving at least some recompense. Therefore, I am teaching one of his lessons each fortnight in exchange for a lesson from him each fortnight.

"Your proper instructor will begin his teaching on Monday, and the head of the Auror office has assured me that he is the best. He has a unique teaching style that consists of a lot of self-teaching and the presentation of your research to the rest of the class, and that is what my lessons are to be like. For those of you who pass the test at the end of the year, I will join you in next year's lessons, and any more that continue after that. Until then, this situation continues. Yes?" he asked, indicating the witch with the raised hand.

"How can we expect to protect ourselves when every way of stopping people getting into places is being overcome by others?" the witch asked. Harry didn't know how to express it, but he was glad she asked this question.

"This, indeed, is tricky. The only real way to stop people from getting in is to put up as many of those security measures as possible. This will stop all but the most powerful of dark wizards, and to stop them you will need to know how to duel, but in times of relative peace, fewer security measures will be needed.

"It used to be that the only thing people needed to protect their houses was this." He flourished a key in his hand. "And without it, you could not unlock the door it was for." He locked the door to the corridor. "But now, such simple things can be overcome. Do any of you know how?" Nobody raised their hands. "It's a spell my friend Hermione came across in our first year, but one which we have never been taught. It unlocks any door that hasn't been charmed. The incantation is '_alohomora_'. Come and try it."

The bell rang after ten minutes of unlocking and relocking the classroom door and Harry pulled the bar to let the assembled witches and wizards back through the fireplace to the Auror training facility.

"In two weeks, I hope to continue with ways of preventing entry into your home," he announced as they left. The man who had been so indignant at being taught by Harry stayed behind for a moment to say something.

"I'm sure you'll work out how to better phrase things soon enough – I know I took a long time to learn the right speech patterns for the right situations – but I'd like to say sorry, because that was a fantastically taught lesson. Thank you." And with that, the man retreated into the green flames once more.


	11. Hogsmeade

**A/N: Hi, everybody! I'd just like to announce that I'm back from my holiday, so get ready for more frequent updates. For those wondering where the plot is, it's just about to resurface. As always, if you have any ideas or any comments at all, feel free to leave a review, and I will answer it if needed.

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Saturday morning dawned like any other day. The sun was a silver disc, shining low over the lake and framed by fluffy clouds that gave not a hint of rain. Birds sang as they usually did and the dew twinkled on the grass. It looked just like any other morning, but the atmosphere inside the castle of Hogwarts was buzzing. It was a bracing nine o'clock in the morning and there was a crowd growing in the Entrance Hall. Professor McGonagall stalked down the grand staircase with an annoyed look on her face.

"Please," she said, "there's two hours before you need to gather here. I'm sure there's something else you could be getting on with before then. Perhaps some homework?" There was a collective groan from the assembled crowd as some of them headed into the Great Hall and others back to their respective common rooms.

When eleven o'clock finally came, everyone who could go to Hogsmeade was lined up. The few people who weren't allowed in were being filtered out from the crowd and sent away, much to their dismay. Nobody could resist a surprise Hogsmeade visit, and with Voldemort gone, surely there would be more than usual.

Professor Flitwick was ticking off the names of the Ravenclaws in the line next to the eighth years, as did Professors Sprout, Slughorn and Bell for their respective houses. Harry had been given a list of the eighth years and was doing the same as the representative of the year. He got to Ron, who saluted.

"Ron Weasley, reporting for duty, sir!" he called out. A few people giggled at this, but most didn't understand.

"Have you been watching Muggle films again, Ron?" asked Harry. Ron nodded and grinned sheepishly.

"Dad's got some that he watches in the shed. He found some sort of black block to make the TB work."

"That's TV, Ron," corrected Harry. "TB's a disease." He moved along the line after grinning back at Ron, and soon every single eighth year was, as Ron and Hermione said in unison, 'all present and correct'. McGonagall had instructed Professor Flitwick, as the most senior teacher, to lead the group into Hogsmeade and had then returned to her office. As it was, Harry had no idea exactly where they were headed.

Like a massive flock of geese, the crowd of Hogwarts students passed through the gates flanked with winged boars, with Flitwick at the leading point. They squashed into the opening of the path into Hogsmeade, which was lined with dry stone walls, and eventually along the winding main street of the village. Then, about halfway into the village, they stopped and gathered outside what looked like a pile of snow.

There was silence. Nobody knew why they had stopped, and people were beginning to murmur in confusion. As the murmuring grew louder, Professor Flitwick shushed, and there was a lull in the underlying buzz of voices.

Suddenly, a loud brassy note played, and began a short fanfare. There were strange pops, whizzes and bangs during the fanfare and the pile of snow began to shake and rise. It was at that moment that Harry realised it wasn't a pile of snow at all, but a huge white sheet covering a building. The sheet was whipped off and the building lit up in vibrant, clashing colours. The underlying colour scheme was orange, and there were orange letters spelling out the name of the establishment.

"Welcome, one and all, to the Grand Opening of the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" announced a voice loudly. "Please give a big hand to the person who organised the whole event, Mr. George Weasley!" There was a round of applause and George was pushed through the crowd to the stage that had also been covered by the blanket. There was a lot of loud whooping and whistling.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!" George began, his voice magically magnified. "I would like to share the good news that we have bought out Zonko's and established our own premises right here as you can see behind you. We bring you the Skiving Snackbox range, with the new, limited edition double symptom sweets." There was a cheer. "We bring you the cutest pets around, the Pygmy Puffs, now also in bright green." There was another, smaller cheer. "And our latest innovation, the Punish-Me Umbridge figurines! Soon to include a range of other figurines, such as the Punish-Me Carrows!" The cheer at this was almighty.

"I now declare this shop open, in dedication to one half of the Weasley twins, Fred Weasley." Though the last two words were uttered in almost a whisper, everybody heard them clearly. Angelina jumped up onto the stage and led the sad-looking George off. The door opened, and a large chunk of the crowd poured in. Meanwhile, Harry headed towards George to make sure he was ok. As he got there, Angelina was just leading him away from the hustle and bustle.

"Don't worry, Harry," she reassured him, "I'll help him." She wrapped her arm around George and, talking softly to him, led him meandering down the main street. Harry watched them go until Ginny tapped him on the shoulder. She had a small smile on her faced, though it was tinged with a sadness that would probably linger for a long time.

"Leave them, Harry. I'm sure Angelina can handle it." Harry reached up to the hand on her shoulder, took it and turned to look into Ginny's eyes. They lit up as they looked into his own, and they both smiled.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Harry asked.

"Ok," replied Ginny, "but only after we've seen inside." She led him by the hand into the already packed shop. There was the usual large crowd around the Pygmy Puffs and Skiving Snackboxes, as well as around the love potions. The two wended their way towards the Punish-Me Umbridges and grinned at what they saw.

The sign above the ugly-looking figurines read:

PUNISH-ME UMBRIDGES

She'll be so annoying that you'll want to destroy her a thousand times over. And you'll be able to, because she just keeps coming back, like a bad Doxy infestation. Guaranteed indestructible beyond self-repairing functions. Fully customisable options – just ask at the counter!

Ginny reached out towards one, which jumped out of the way and began berating her furiously at the top of its voice. The entire shop went quiet just to listen to it.

"_Silencio!_" Ginny silenced the miniature version of the old bat. "Merlin, she was getting annoying!" There was a collective laugh and the conversations resumed, although there was a general migration of people towards the new figurines. Within minutes, dozens of people were walking out of the shop with their Punish-Me Umbridges, a few of which had already been melted by their new owners. The pools of melted Umbridge, which they carried in sturdy vials, bubbled sadly.

Ginny and Harry continued to look around the shop, even popping into the back room with the permission of the young witch at the counter. There, they saw that there was a list with Harry's name at the top. They looked more closely at it and saw that it was a list of the Weasley products used by Harry, clearly as a new marketing scheme. Labels on the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and the Decoy Detonators confirmed that they were in the 'Potter's Pride' range.

"Mr. Weasley would like to know if you would consider using some more of his products," asked a soft voice from behind the pair, "free of charge, of course."

"Of course I would," replied Harry, turning to see that it was the woman who was behind the counter talking to them. She had just poked her head around the separating curtain to ask that important question.

"And if you have any ideas about any of our items, we'd love to hear them. Address them to our suggestions chimney." Harry thanked the woman and continued to look at the increased range of 'serious' Weasley products. The range of shieldwear had expanded to include fashionable jewellery, in order that a young witch or wizard's dress sense would not be compromised. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder now came in different grades, giving total darkness for varying amounts of time before settling. It even came in hot pink, to give a light coloured hue to the room rather than total darkness.

Just along from there, however, Harry caught sight of sets of mirrors. They reminded him of the mirror that Sirius had given to him, and had the same function. Moreover, different pairs of mirrors could be linked, so that groups of witches or wizards could all talk to each other at the same time, but the mirrors could still be used for one-to-on communication within that group. It was a fantastic piece of magical engineering, and Harry concluded that George had to be among the greatest wizards of all time.

The only problem was that he really needed someone like himself, like Fred, who he could bounce ideas off and who could give him inspiration. That way, he could be distracted from the events of the previous year. He could concentrate on making his new products, and more easily get over the tragic death of his twin. Harry grabbed two mirrors, and he and Ginny left the back room. After the woman refused to charge Harry for the mirrors, they made their way outside and took a deep gulp of the fresh September air.

"Ginny," began Harry, "would you like to take a walk with me?"

"Sure," she replied with a smile. Harry took her hand and they walked through Hogsmeade, away from the castle. As they passed the last of the shops and began to walk through the houses at the tail end of the village, Ginny began to wonder where they were going. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Out of the village," replied Harry simply. Trusting him, she bent down and pushed her head under his arm. He shifted it and put it round her shoulders so that they could walk more closely together. They passed a few houses with broken windows and others in various states of repair. The inhabitants of the village had been working all summer to fix the damage done by the Death Eaters when they had occupied the village. Every time someone broke the curfew, the Death Eaters would wreck their house, and so the villagers had ended up completely demoralised and trapped in their homes.

The villagers of Hogsmeade were beginning to dislike magic, as what could be repaired magically could also be put beyond magical repair. They weren't used to the physical labour involved in repairing and rebuilding houses, and so the work was very slow. Nevertheless, magic could still be used in transporting bricks and cement, and so the work wasn't too backbreaking. Harry, brought up as a Muggle, but immersed into the wizarding world of an easier lifestyle, sympathised with them.

"Can't we do something to help them, Harry?" asked Ginny. Harry thought about it for a while as they continued walking. When they reached the stile at the end of the street, he figured it out.

"I have a plan. If it works, we could have Hogsmeade rebuilt by Christmas. Come on, though, over the stile." They hopped over the stile and walked along the path Harry had once taken to see his Godfather in the mountains. A little way along the track, however, they veered off into the trees running parallel to them.

Suddenly, they emerged into a small clearing. Lavender and buddleia attracted scores of butterflies and they fluttered around them. Ginny giggled when one landed on her nose, scaring it away. A small brook bubbled away on the far side of the clearing and sunflowers drooped in the centre, heavy with seeds. It was as though summer had never left this clearing and it was a truly beautiful sight to behold. Harry and Ginny sat on the soft moss against a rock, watching the butterflies.

"It's beautiful," said Ginny in an awed voice.

"Nowhere near as beautiful as you though," replied Harry. As the sun was unmasked from the lightest of clouds, the golden light in the clearing grew stronger and warmer, and the butterflies began to settle. The two of them, alone in the clearing, leaned towards each other, their eyes half closed.


	12. The Silver Wand

**A/N: I just wanted to say, as a good friend of mine asked about it, that nothing in the story is a dream. It's all real, no matter how I might suddenly switch to another moment in time. The switches, for example this jump of about six weeks, are supposed to be as though the scene of a film is changing with some fancy fading in/out. I don't know if you want to picture it that way, but you can add any other screen effects you might want :) Add some background music too, if you wish!

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**

"Oi! Harry, stop daydreaming!" Harry shook himself to see Ron staring at him. Ron shook his head. "Totally out of it, you were. Now wake up. Post's about to arrive." Harry looked up at the small opening in the rafters where the owls would fly in. It was partially obscured by a large cloud scudding across the enchanted ceiling.

It looked like today was going to be a good day, and the rest of the week looked good, so Harry had booked the Quidditch pitch for that evening and most of Saturday. It was almost two weeks until the first match of the season in early November and the conversations in the Great Hall and common rooms were beginning to turn towards the upcoming match. Harry was relieved that he was still allowed to play for Gryffindor.

The tryouts had been interesting, to say the least. There were now two captains of the team, and so neither of their positions were guaranteed. Harry was more nervous about this than Ginny, as he had never had to try out. Unfortunately, the Seeker tryouts were last on the agenda. Ginny's tryout, however, came first, as there was always a large number of people trying out for Chaser positions.

As the best two people to try out for the Keeper, both Ron and Cormac McLaggen were enlisted to help select the Chasers. Harry had made the tryout so that there were six teams of Chasers on the pitch at once, firing at both sets of hoops. This was designed to test their aim in shooting at the goal, as well as their agility and speed in dodging everyone else. Almost twenty seconds in, Ginny had scored her first goal, and was nicely assisted by Demelza Robins, who had a chance to score just a minute later, and did so with quite some style.

McLaggen was furious when he let in that second goal and was kicking the central hoop ferociously. Meanwhile, Ron saved a goal, and then another shot from the rebound, to massive cheers. Everybody in the group who were hoping to try for the Keeper position groaned and made their way into the stands, giving up entirely on that spot. Harry decided to let the Bludgers out, and they rocketed around, trying to knock people off their brooms. Every Chaser needed to know how to dodge a Bludger.

Suddenly, there was another cheer as a third goal was put past McLaggen. It seemed that Dean Thomas had, completely on his own, caught the Quaffle, flown through an excellent defence by an opposing team of Chasers, dodged both Bludgers and scored from just inside the scoring zone. Harry blew his whistle and everybody flying touched down around him.

"That was very good from everyone. I'll post up the results of the Chaser tryouts tomorrow, on the noticeboards. As we have nobody else trying for Keeper, I'll put those up, too." Everybody except Ginny and McLaggen retreated to the stands.

"Who got the Keeper spot then?" asked McLaggen.

"I said I'd post the results up tomorrow," replied Harry shortly. "Until then, you can join everyone else in the stands." McLaggen stumped away, thoroughly irked once again. Harry turned to Ginny. "Do you want to do the Beaters?"

"Ok then," she agreed. She then twirled her wand at a nearby target, which flew up into the air and around the pitch. "Everybody wanting to be a Beater should get into a total of four equal-sized groups. The first few to hit the target with a Bludger will proceed to the final round of selection in much the same format. Places will be announced tomorrow." Ginny's magically amplified voice rang out across the stadium, ensuring that the tryouts continued smoothly, meaning it was barely a quarter of an hour until the Seeker tryouts. Harry steeled himself for the challenge, which was a simple one: catch the Snitch before any of the others. With more than one Seeker flying around, the Snitch would be caught quickly, but the question was by whom.

The Snitch was released. Harry tried to follow it with his eyes from the ground, but it soon disappeared. Then the whistle blew. Harry kicked off, heading for where he had last seen it. A group of three people followed close behind him, so he dived down as though he had seen the Snitch. They followed, of course. In the end, two of the three of them rolled off their brooms onto the pitch below. Harry looped up and round behind the third person, spooking them into veering out of the stadium, giving him time to look for the Snitch.

A Bludger whizzed past Harry as he scanned the pitch, looking at the two others flying around the edge in order to look for the elusive golden ball. Suddenly, all three of them spotted the golden glimmer halfway along the pitch. Harry was easily closest, and as he grasped the old, slightly worn Snitch, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He had never before had to compete for his livelihood.

"Never again," he breathed.

"Never again what?" asked Ron. Harry began to answer, but was interrupted by his ginger friend. "Oh, good. The post's here!" The clouds on the ceiling of the Great Hall were blocked out by a large cloud of brown, white and grey as the mass of owls pured into the Great Hall and began to look for their owners. As each of them were spotted, part of the cloud broke away to swoop over them and deposit either a letter, a parcel or a newspaper. A handful of owls began to fly over to the four friends.

Hermione still had a subscription to the Daily Prophet, and so paid an owl a Knut for the pleasure of its delivery, and a letter addressed in purple. Harry received three letters, one of which looked remarkably similar to Hermione's. Ron, however, received only one letter, as did Ginny.

"Hey, look!" he exclaimed. "We've all got the same letter from someone. Do we know anyone who uses purple ink?" The others shook their heads and proceeded to open the letters. The first thing they noticed was the logo heading the letter, indicating that they were from the Daily Prophet. Harry, Ron and Hermione immediately dropped the letters without giving them a second look. Ginny, however, dutifully read hers.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_We at the _Daily Prophet _are interested in writing an article about the events of last year from the perspective of those directly involved with it. We would appreciate it if you could spare the time for a short interview giving your own account of what happened at Hogwarts, as well as of events outside the castle. Please send your reply as soon as possible._

_Thanks in advance,_

_Isobel Greengrass_

"What does she mean by 'events outside the castle'? We never left the castle, not even for Hogsmeade."

"I think she wants to question you about our search for the... you know..." said Ron through a mouthful of cornflakes, milk dribbling down his chin. They had all sworn not to mention the Horcruxes in front of anyone else. Hermione looked at Ron, disgusted.

"You're so charming, Ronald," she said scathingly. He swallowed his breakfast before wiping his face and replying.

"Anything interesting in the paper today?" he asked in mock politeness.

"Yes," confirmed Hermione. "Apparently we were out searching for dragons last year. And..." She flicked through a few more pages. "...we were also raiding everybody's vaults in Gringotts to find out who the Death Eaters were."

"Close enough," grinned Ron. "What's in your letters, Harry?"

"One's from Xeno Lovegood." Ron and Hermione's faces dropped into scowls. "He apologises for everything and asks politely if we might also give him the opportunity to interview us again. You know what? I'm inclined to accept, to give our own side of the story again. Not to some rag like the Prophet. Anyway, the second letter's from Ollivander."

"What does he say?" asked Hermione, excited. "Is the wand ready?"

"Yeah. He wants to know whether we can come down to London for the testing this weekend."

"What, and leave Hogwarts? We aren't allowed to do that!"

"I think we technically are," said Ginny. "I mean, we are Professors. The other Professors are going out all the time." Hermione nodded and smiled.

"Tell him we'll go," said Hermione.

"Ok, but I'll have to tell him we can only do Sunday. Ron, Ginny and I have all got Quidditch practice." Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes while Harry wrote a quick reply to both letters. Unfortunately, the owls that had delivered the letters had flown back, so Harry had to go up to the owlery to borrow one of the school owls at breaktime.

That Sunday, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked into the sixth floor classroom and each took a pinch of Floo powder. Harry pulled the hidden iron lever and they flooed into Diagon Alley, stepping out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. They muttered a quick thanks to Tom, the barman, and gave him a Sickle as payment for the use of his fireplace before leaving through the back entrance.

Harry was reminded of the first time he came here as the hole appeared in the brick wall in the back alley to reveal the archway into Diagon Alley. It was again different from last year. There were fewer stalls by the roadside selling no doubt phoney magical protection and other useful items. A few of the previously boarded-up shops had been reopened, a few by different people. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, for example, was now run by Geoffrey Flume, brother to the proprietor of Honeydukes.

Ollivander's shop was back in business, too, but hadn't changed a bit from when Harry had first seen it. He led the way into the musty shop, the familiar faraway tinkling reaching their ears as he opened the door. The main area of the shop had been cleared of its usual clutter and sheets covered the shelves around the walls. From the back rooms of the shop, Mr. Ollivander approached his new potential customers. Seeing who it was, however, he broke out into a broad grin.

"Ah, Harry, Hermione, Ronald and Ginevra. Welcome, welcome! We'll begin testing the wand momentarily. I do want to thank you for the idea of silver. It seems to make a good wand. That is, as far as we can see without actually testing it. Let me fetch my assistant." Ollivander disappeared for a moment, returning with a goblin in tow, who was holding a fantastically designed silver wand.

"This is Gortuk," said Ollivander, indicating the goblin. "He's 'on loan', so to speak, from Gringotts in order to help me make and test the first wands. Seeing as these wands will be for goblins, I thought 'who better to test them than a goblin?'. Gortuk, if you could stand in the middle of the testing area please. Ladies and gentlemen, if you could join me behind the counter, thank you."

They gathered behind the counter and Ollivander put up a shield, just in case. Gortuk, knowing what to do as he had tested the original wooden prototypes, stood in the centre of the cleared space, facing the five people behind the counter. He raised the wand with a trembling hand, then brought it sweeping down in a fountain of sparks. The sparks were brighter than usual, and singed the floor and walls where they hit.

A few of the sparks touched the sheets covering the shelves of wands, and the sheets easily caught fire. Flames began to spread quickly up the sheets while Ollivander took the shield down. By the time he got to the shelves, there were more sparks flying around as wands began to catch fire in their boxes.

"_Aguamenti!_" they all cried in unison. They doused the entire wall with wide sprays from their wands and the fire was put out in a hiss of steam. Luckily, only a dozen wands were charred, and the rest had escaped any damage. Gortuk, however, was staring at where the fire had been, his mouth open in a very un-goblinlike manner. Ollivander took the dazed goblin into the back of the shop and the others followed.

"Well, I think that went well," said Ollivander unusually brightly.

"How can you say that?" asked Hermione. "It almost burned the entire shop down."

"Ah, it's just a little too powerful, that's all. I think Gortuk's a bit exhausted after that. Powerful magic really takes it out of you at first, especially if it's so uncontrolled. I'll just alter the design slightly and it'll be perfect." Ollivander was practically bouncing with excitement at the first breakthrough in wandlore for centuries. "Thank you so much for everything."


	13. The Grass is Greener

"Oh no!"

"What?"

"Take a look at what that rag has written."

"Damn! Well at least they finally have their facts right. They're not usually known for that, as you well know."

"True," conceded Hermione, "but I didn't expect it from Isobel Greengrass. Her letters were always so polite."

Harry passed the paper back to her, who began to read it out to Ron and Ginny.

_GOBLINS TO GAIN WAND RIGHTS_

"Well, that's an ordinary headline – nothing like Skeeter material at all," scoffed Ron.

_Under the Wand Ban of 1631, goblins are not allowed to wield wands, and the same applies to any other magical creatures of near-human intelligence. In contravention to this law, goblins are to be supplied with wands, crafted by Satorfatus Ollivander, 95, of the Ollivander's establishment, our oldest wandmaker's._

"Am I the only one who never thought that Ollivander never had a first name?" asked Ginny. Everybody shook their heads. They couldn't imagine Ollivander with a proper name, so it seemed fitting that it was such a strange one.

_Mr. Ollivander is the latest in the Ollivander family to own the wandmaking business. He recently expressed a wish to pass the business on to his grandson, Samuel Ollivander, 47._

_Smoke was seen coming from the Ollivander's establishment in Diagon Alley at approximately one o'clock this Sunday and Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald and Ginevra Weasley were seen leaving the shop shortly afterwards. This reporter has been informed that the smoke was from the new goblin wands they were testing, which are much more powerful than normal wands._

_This makes goblin wands much more dangerous than ordinary wands. There could easily be a goblin revolution in which wizards and Muggles alike are enslaved, unable to combat the raw power of the goblin wands. The goblins will rise once again and make war on us, still recovering from last year's attacks. They already control our entire economy and we are now giving them weapons which we cannot defend against due to their increased power._

_The Wand Ban of 1631 still applies as it has not yet been repealed, so any testing of goblin wands is illegal. The law also states that anybody aiding such contraventions is also guilty of the crime. I therefore regret to conclude that Mr. Potter, Miss Granger and Mr. and Miss Weasley, as well as Mr. Ollivander, must be sent to Azkaban immediately. We can only hope that the Aurors can stop this before it is too late._

"This is ridiculous," said Hermione before Ron and Ginny could comment. "The law states that the current Minister for Magic can grant any unlawful powers as he sees fit, as long as this is confirmed by the Wizengamot. They can't send us to Azkaban!"

"Calm down, Hermione," said Ron softly. "We know you're right, so we have nothing to worry about. All we can hope for is that this Greengrass woman gets her comeuppance for sparking off mass hysteria. The goblins aren't going to be happy about this, either. I just hope that Kingsley knows how to deal with them and how to keep the deal on the table."

"Kingsley knows what he's doing," confirmed Harry. "Greengrass will get a stern talking to."

"You do know that Greengrass had a daughter here at Hogwarts?" said Hermione. "She was in our year, in Slytherin, but she never seemed to be as cruel as the other Slytherins. She was surprisingly nice when I talked to her in the library once, and even helped me out in finding this book for Ancient Runes."

"She's got another daughter, too," piped up Ginny. "She's in the year below me. Astoria's her name, I think. Really sweet girl, kind of shy."

"Another Slytherin?" asked Ron.

"No, actually, she's in Hufflepuff."

"Shame for her to have a journalist for a mother, really," commented Harry. "What I'm more concerned about, though, is how Isobel found out that we were testing goblin wands. Either someone was watching us through the window or someone who knew about the project told her."

"We have a leak," said Hermione conspiratorially, reminding Harry of so many Muggle films. He chuckled at this, and roared with laughter when he saw the blank looks on the Weasleys' faces. The bell rang for Tuesday's first lesson and they all left the Great Hall.

As they had a free period, in which Ron and Hermione had agreed to teach the second years, Harry and Ginny went for a walk in the castle grounds. They passed around the class of fifth years, who were crowded around a large pile of rubble, attempting to Vanish parts of it under the careful eye of Professor McGonagall.

"Harry," began McGonagall, coming up to the pair of them as they passed, "I just wanted to thank you, and pass on the thanks of the citizens of Hogsmeade, for that fantastic idea of yours. The Charms class has almost completely cleared the village of rubble, and my transfiguration classes are improving a lot faster than any other class I've taught. After we've Vanished all the rubble, I think we can just recap by vanishing a cat, and then we can move onto animation spells."

McGonagall was almost bouncing with excitement, something Harry had never seen before. Harry waved his wand in a complicated fashion and thought a few choice words. There was a yapping from the other side of the fifth years, and it turned out that Harry had transfigured a large piece of rubble into a Yorkshire terrier. McGonagall was impressed, and gave Harry a wink before returning to her class.

As they walked up towards the Forbidden Forest, Harry could tell by Ginny's expression that she wanted to say something. He fell silent and waited until she was ready. They skirted around the fringe of the forest, coming to a silver birch, almost glowing in the dappled sunlight. Harry placed his palm on the trunk, and the trees parted to reveal the path into the memorial garden.

"Harry," Ginny began as they sat on one of the benches in the garden, "there's something I wanted to talk to you about. I've been looking for the right time to ask you about it for a while now. You see, it's about fifth year, when you..." She trailed off.

"Broke up with you?" Harry asked.

"Yes. How do I know you're not going to just do that again when the next threat comes up? You're going to be fighting all sorts of dark wizards as an Auror, and I just don't think I can go through that again."

"Nor do I. I never wanted to do that, and a part of me always regretted it. Every day I thought about you, and every night I took out the Marauder's Map, just to look at you, to make sure you were safe. Once I'd heard you had gone to stay at your Aunt Muriel's, I knew you would be safe there. But I still looked at the Map, just in case. It made me feel closer to you, even though we were miles apart. I never want to be that far from you again."

"Then let's never be apart." Harry looked up at Ginny to see she was smiling at him. He wrapped his arms around her and they just held each other silently for a few minutes. When they pulled apart, Harry saw that there was a tear running down Ginny's otherwise perfect cheek. He wiped it away gently.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about Fred. I'm going to miss him, even though I never got to tell him that. He was always teasing me, and I was always getting outraged at him, although somehow I think it was all a game, to both of us. I just wish there was a way to tell him how much I really cared about him."

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her. "I brought back shades of my parents and Sirius last year with the resurrection stone. I know that once they are at peace, they see what goes on in the world. They can hear you from wherever they are, but they are happy. They want to be left at peace, for there is no feeling on Earth like it. Fred is truly in a better place now, and he knows how much you miss him." Ginny sniffed and nodded, and they sat there in silence for a little while longer, looking at the memorial at the end of the garden.

"Where in the name of Merlin's saggy left buttock have you been?" asked Ron in a hushed voice when Harry had finally walked into his sixth year lesson. A girl at the front of the class, who was working on the assignment Hermione had set them, stifled a snigger.

"Oh behave, Ron," said Hermione, coming over to see what all the fuss is about. "I'm sure Harry will tell us at lunchtime. Talking of which..." She raised her voice to call out to the class. "...you've got ten minutes left of the lesson. The homework will be to carry on with this, eight inches each. It's due in Wednesday afternoon for the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Gryffindors and Slytherins will have the Lunch and Afternoon breaks to gather any research they need, as they will be continuing with the assignment later today, handing it in at the end. Any questions?" A girl in the middle, close to the window, put up her hand and smiled at Ron.

"Yes?" he asked.

"May I go to the library to get out a book?" she asked sweetly.

"Of course," agreed Ron almost immediately, earning himself a concealed whack from Hermione. As soon as the girl left the room, Hermione addressed the class again.

"Seeing as Astoria has been let off early, you can all leave for lunch if you wish. Those who want to stay to work on their assignments may also do so." There was an almighty scraping of chairs as the entire class rose as one and squeezed past the professors and out of the door. "Hmph!" pouted Hermione.

"So where were you?" asked Ron at the Gryffindor table.

"We went to the memorial garden to say goodbye to Fred." Harry watched as the smug look dropped off Ron's face. Ron turned back to his food and began to stuff his face ferociously, obviously not wanting to think about Fred.

The scene was similar the next day when the owl post brought in yet more letters at breakfast. Two owls landed at Harry's seat at the high table, each depositing a letter. The first was from Bill.

_Dear Harry,_

_I saw the article in the paper, and immediately buried my head in my hands. This is seriously going to harm the diplomatic situation between the wizards and the goblins. The relationship has always been tenuous, and likely to break down at even the slightest of incidents. No offence, Harry, but your break-in took three months of solid diplomacy to sort out in order that the goblins didn't close the bank._

_I also received a letter from Ollivander asking for help. After seeing the article, his goblin assistant left his employ and returned to Gringotts. Ollivander asked me to sort out the situation and to recruit another goblin assistant from Gringotts. I'm glad to say that I was successful, and Ollivander's new assistant is called Griphook. I think he was one of the goblins present when we went to the bank to see your accounts._

_Nevertheless, I would like to advise caution with the goblins. They are a very proud race, but they can hold grudges for generations. Good luck in your future dealings with them. I will always be there to help you if you need it, so you only have to ask._

_Bill._

_P.S. Fleur is pregnant. Don't tell anyone yet. I want to surprise Mum at Christmas._

The second letter was from Kingsley.

_Dear Harry,_

_Although I do not yet know how the information about the goblin wands reached the media, I would like to apologise, as the leak almost certainly came from the Ministry. I would also like to invite you to speak at a press conference, as the Muggles call it, in the Ministry Atrium tonight, at 4 o'clock. Hopefully, we can get everything sorted out then._

_Thank you for your efforts so far,_

_Kingsley._


	14. On the Other Side

**A/N: This chapter is the second part of the Greengrass mini-story. There may be other parts in the future, but the next chapter's the Quidditch match. As always, I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far, what you think would be good in the near, not-so-near or even far-off future, or anything you'd like to see improved. I'm always open to reviews and messages, and will reply to any that need it. Thank you all.

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It was Friday, and the day before the first Quidditch match of the season. Harry had just left his Auror training lesson where he had taught about blocking fireplaces from the Floo network, a lesson with which he had needed help from a large textbook. He walked down two flights of stairs to the library, pushing open the ornate oak doors and walking inside. He placed the heavy tome on the returns pile, smiled and nodded to Madam Pince, and walked straight back out without ever slowing his stride.

Before he got to the exit, however, he heard a quiet sobbing, accompanied by a few pitiful sniffs. He turned towards the nearest bookshelf, in which there was a small gap between two green books. Through it, he could see that there was a girl crying, her head in her arms on the reading desk in front of her. Her body was shaking with sobs.

Harry was just about to go around the bookshelf to see if he could make the girl feel better when he saw a familiar face. A pointed nose and sleek blond hair approached the girl. Draco put his arm round the girl, shocking Harry. Harry stood transfixed by the scene.

"Hey, there. Don't cry. What's wrong?" Draco asked softly.

"Go away," the girl sniffed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No," he murmured. "Let it all out. You can't just keep it all bottled up."

"People keep on... coming up to me... calling me names... taking my stuff... I didn't do anything wrong." She broke down once more, become unintelligible through her tears.

"Never. Why would anybody do that to you, especially if you hadn't done anything? That's just... evil..."

"It's because of my mum," she said, running her fingers through her now tangled hair. "She works for the Daily Prophet. She wrote that... that... that goblin article over a week ago. And now everybody hates me."

"Don't worry," said Draco, sitting beside her. "I'm not the most well-liked of people either. It's mainly my fault, though. I've done some terrible things to some good people, but I thought it was right. My father, he also did many terrible things, and he was the one who taught me that being bad was right. You just have to realise that who your parents are shouldn't change who you are. Once people realise that, they'll like you again. I don't think anybody will ever like me again, though..."

"No, that can't be true," said the girl, putting he hand on Draco's cheek. "You seem alright to me. I like you, whoever you are." Draco put his hand on her hand, not believing it was there. As he touched it, he turned and looked into her eyes.

"I... I'm sorry," he said. "How rude of me. My name's Draco; Draco Malfoy. Slytherin. Son of a Death Eater. Hated by the legendary Harry Potter for good reason." Ashamed that Draco thought he hated him, Harry left the library at this point, deep in thought.

"At least you don't get dungbombs thrown at you as you walk down the corridor. Even those people I thought were my friends are calling me names. I can't sleep in my dormitory without people putting stuff in my bed or pushing me out. I haven't slept in my own bed for days. And I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be supportive."

"That's ok, Astoria. I won't let it happen to you any more. I... I can't..."

"How do you know my name?" asked Astoria, pulling her hand away suspiciously.

"I knew your sister," replied Draco truthfully. "We both got sorted into Slytherin at the same time. She often talked about you." Astoria relaxed. "Now, how about we get you moved into a new bedroom of your own? I'm sure McGonagall would allow it. If not, you can take mine. McGonagall gave me one at the start of the year."

"I don't want to be any bother," Astoria said, preferring to suffer quietly and not be any trouble to anyone.

"It's no bother. Come with me." Draco stood up and held out his hand, and she took it, smiling. Draco smiled back as she also rose and they left the library together. They walked along the corridors and up a sweeping staircase which took them all the way to the seventh floor. Although the people they passed in the corridors often stared at them as they went passed, they were both oblivious to it. They had blocked out everybody else until they came to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' Office.

"Erm, Draco, how do we get in? Do you know the password?"

"Yes, the eighth years were all given the password because they fought in the Battle last year and you ever need to talk about it, or even if you want to talk about something else. They'll always have the time for you. _Severus_." The gargoyle sprang aside instantly. Draco inclined his head towards it before leading Astoria inside and up the moving spiral staircase. The gargoyle had needed counselling, even though it was only a transfigured statue, as it had become damaged in the Battle.

Draco knocked at the heavy oak door, made remarkable only by the large brass knocker and the decoration on the handle, although something else about it made it seem imposing.

"Come in!" called McGonagall from where she sat inside. Draco pushed the door open and walked inside. Astoria hesitated, having never been in the Head's office before. She was nervous about seeing and talking to McGonagall, but Draco proffered his hand when he saw her reluctance.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "McGonagall's really nice."

"That's Professor McGonagall, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall replied in mock severity. "Oh, don't worry. I'm only joking." She had seen Astoria's look of panic. "Now, what's your name?"

"Astoria Greengrass," Astoria replied quietly, looking at her feet.

"Well, Astoria, Draco's right. I am really nice. Dumbledore was always telling me to let my hair down, and here we are. Figuratively speaking, of course. The professors are always here to help you, and you don't have to be scared of them. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Please, Professor, could Astoria have an eighth year bedroom?" asked Draco politely.

"Well, we do have a couple spare. Is there some trouble going on?"

"I don't want any trouble," whispered Astoria. She really didn't want to get anybody into trouble. McGonagall understood how difficult it could be sometimes, and didn't press the issue.

"That's ok. Draco, I want you to look after her. Take her to the room beside yours. I'll get one of the house-elves to set it up for you by the time you get there. They're very efficient."

"Thank you, Professor," replied Draco, and he led Astoria back out of the office.

Meanwhile, Harry was deep in conversation with Ron and Ginny as they walked down to the Quidditch pitch for a last minute practice session.

"Malfoy said I hated him. I know you guys don't think it's a big deal, but it's really made me think," said Harry.

"I don't see the problem," replied Ron. "Everyone knows you hate him. I mean, he was your arch-enemy or something. You two were always fighting over stuff, and then he turned to the dark side. Not that it was hard to get him to turn at all."

"All that doesn't mean I hate him, though," corrected Harry. "I used to dislike him, yes, but not so much any more. I understand him. He didn't really know anything else other than evil, due to his father. He's changed since the Battle, and I say we should try to respect him, despite his previous misdemeanours. I know that's a silly way of putting it, but I can't for the life of me think how else to _oof!_" Harry had suddenly been hugged by Ginny.

"Guys!" whined Ron. They parted, looking sheepish.

"I meant to say, Harry, that you're very forgiving and I respect that," said Ginny with mock formality and a wicked grin. Ron rolled his eyes in a very Hermione-like way.

"My only problem," continued Harry, "is that I don't know how to tell him I don't actually hate him without admitting that I was listening in on their conversation."

"Why don't we ask Hermione after the practice?" asked Ginny.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "Hermione knows everything." Harry and Ginny shared a knowing smile.

Quidditch practice was almost uneventful. Harry dodged a Bludger that seemed to be hurtling towards his head, only to find that it was a black owl flying across the pitch. Ginny and Ron almost fell off their brooms with laughter as Harry struggled to right himself, feathers falling slowly all around him. Demelza Robins caught the Quaffle from Dean Thomas, flew up to the hoop next to Ron and threw the Quaffle in, shocking Ron so much that he eventually did fall off his broom. Thankfully, Harry was quick enough to cast a cushioning charm on the ground below the goalposts.

When the sun began to set and the shadows began to lengthen, Harry called everybody to the ground next to the entrance to the changing rooms. He congratulated them all on a fantastic practice, boosting everybody's confidence about the upcoming match against Ravenclaw, and suggested that they all get a good night's sleep.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Dean split off from the rest of the team at the sixth floor and headed towards the eighth year common room. As they approached, they saw that a gnarled tree stump and a bunch of pinky-purple flowers had emerged from a part of the swamp, along with a small fern.

"What's happening to the swamp?" asked Harry.

"Oh, George has just decided to improve on it in his spare time. If he can get this right, he can make them more richly detailed in the future, or upgrade those that people have already bought, for a small fee. It was partly my idea, partly his. We like to bounce ideas off each other." Ron grinned as he patted the tree stump fondly.

"That's awesome, Ron," said Dean and Harry simultaneously. Ron and Ginny smirked at this, and Harry blushed, almost to Ron's level of blushing. It was at times like this when he was reminded painfully of the brief relationship Ginny had with Dean, even though it was all in order to make Harry more interested in her. Thinking about this just made him even more embarrassed.

Moving on from the awkwardness of the corridor, Harry, Ron and Ginny joined Hermione on their usual sofa by the fire. Though Harry continually asked people not to do it, they always made room for him where he wanted to go, along with most of the other Defence professors. As such, the sofa by the fire was always vacant when they weren't sitting in it. Ron was the only one who didn't mind at all, though Harry often felt that he understood when thinking back to the Horcrux taunting Ron about being inferior to Harry last year.

"Who's that girl with Malfoy in the corner?" asked Ron. "I'm sure I've never seen her before."

"That's Astoria Greengrass. I told you about her last week, when that article came out," said Ginny.

"Oh yeah, written by her cow of a mother."

"Ron!" berated Hermione. "Be nice! This doesn't mean you can be rude to the poor girl. I can just imagine what she's going through, with everybody being mean to her because of her mother. At least Malfoy has the decency to befriend her."

"That's the girl Malfoy was talking to in the library," said Harry slowly. "She was crying about just that. How did you know, Hermione?"

"I heard her crying in the toilets the other day. I was going to say something to her, but she left before me. I hope she feels better, though, and I hope Malfoy looks after her properly."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "Plus, I think they look kind of cute together." Ron did a comic double-take.


	15. The Bell of the Ball

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I wanted to reply to RIP FRED I, who made me think a lot. As to george not being on the team, I felt it would have too many memories of Fred. However, I admit I did forget about Aberforth, but definitely not about Professor Bell - love her to bits! And Grimmauld Place? We'll have to see... Enjoy the match, everyone!

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"Come on, you have to eat something. Usually it's Ron who gets the first-match jitters." Harry was trying to persuade Demelza to eat before the match. Playing on an empty stomach wouldn't win them the match. Reluctantly, Demelza ate some eggs and nibbled a slice of toast. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, who had made it back on the team as beaters, were blocking McLaggen's way, preventing him from asking, yet again, why Harry hadn't chosen him for the team.

"Good luck today, everybody. Minerva, I mean Professor McGonagall, has told me how good it is to hold the trophy in your office. I want to see it staying with us." Harry turned to find Professor Bell with her usual grin and wicked glint in her golden brown eyes.

"It's a dead cert," called Peakes from where he was restraining McLaggen. Coote rapped McLaggen on the head with his Beater's bat, causing him to push past Peakes and begin to give chase. Coote ran past Professor Bell, who held out her arm to stop McLaggen.

"Save your energy for the match, boys," she said calmly.

"But I'm not in the match, Professor," moaned McLaggen. "Potter's always choosing his friends for the team."

"Well I'm sure you'll want to put that energy into cheering for the team then." McLaggen sat back in his seat, saying nothing but wearing a dark scowl on his face. Fifteen minutes before the match was due to start, Harry and Ginny gathered everyone in the changing rooms. They all got changed into their Quidditch robes in silence before Ginny and Harry came out of the Captain's plotting chamber, as Ron so cheerfully referred to it.

"Hogwarts has changed. Everybody's lives have changed. The world has changed. But there's one thing we must not change."

"Quidditch," said Harry simply. "We have to win this year. We're all friends here. We all get along, we all know each other's situations, and we therefore have the greatest teamwork of any team here. Let's not spoil that. Let's go out and win." A fanfare blared outside at that point, and they all grabbed their brooms, their faces set.

They heard Luna announce the Ravenclaws as they stood by the doors, waiting to emerge onto the pitch. It seemed that everybody had been sufficiently amused by her previous commentaries to let her back. Harry grinned as he heard her remark that she had cured the Ravenclaws of a bad case of Wrackspurts the night before.

"And now we have the team who has been drawn to play Ravenclaw. It's Gryffindor, who've been the better team for the past seven years, but have only won three times. The team must be under the influence of a Blibbering Humdinger, probably living in the Gryffindor common room. Affected this year are:

"Beaters Peakes and Coote! Keeper Weasley! Chasers Robins and Thomas! And the joint captains, Weasley and Potter! They're an item now, so I wish the luck of the Gernumblies to them. Madam Johnson bring the balls to the pitch and is about to start the match."

All fourteen players stood in a circle around Angelina as she released the Snitch, then the Bludgers, from the crate. She took the Quaffle in her hands, put her whistle in her mouth and tensed. As quickly as possible, she threw the Quaffle up and blew the whistle. Both teams kicked off hard from the ground, which squelched slightly with the morning dew. Angelina Banished the crate to the referee's changing room and kicked off as well, settling into a position where she could see clearly and make swift judgements on any fouls. A bell rung out as Demelza threw the Quaffle into the Ravenclaw goal, putting Gryffindor into an early ten-point lead.

The lead was maintained and increased in terrific style as Ginny, Demelza and Dean worked extremely well with each other, allowing the Ravenclaws only a few shots at goal while they made their Keeper work for his place in the team. Both Ron and the Ravenclaw Keeper made an equal number of saves, so by the time the match had been underway for twenty minutes, Gryffindor were ninety points up.

As the Chasers extended the Lions' lead to three figures, Harry spotted the telltale glint of gold that was the Snitch. The Ravenclaw Keeper was nowhere near it and looking the other way, so Harry flew with less of his usual urgency to where it was hovering. It flew further towards the stands and Harry gave chase. The crowd ducked as Harry hurtled towards them, eventually catching the Snitch just inches above their heads.

As the cheers erupted around him, Harry raised his fist in triumph. He turned, only to see Cormac McLaggen, the only person on the Gryffindor side not cheering, with that same scowl. Harry immediately flew away, landing in the middle of the pitch, where Ginny and the rest of the team joined him.

"Oh, is it over?" Luna's voice echoed across the pitch. "It seems Harry's caught the Snitch and won the game by two hundred and fifty points. Maybe they've got rid of the Blibbering Humdinger. Well done, Gryffindor." Even though she was a Ravenclaw, she took no sides in the commentating of the match. She was one of the most impartial commentators they had ever had, and McGonagall was thankful for that. No longer did she have to enforce impartiality.

"Party in the common room!" shouted Ron in the changing room.

"Which one?" asked Coote. Ron looked blank. As realisation suddenly dawned, you could see the change on Ron's face.

"Ohhhh," he said. "I can see why this might be a problem." He got into an amusing thinking pose. "Maybe we should ask Professor Bell if we can hold it in the Gryffindor common room. We are the Gryffindor team, after all." Hermione, who had been listening at the entrance to the changing room, squealed and barrelled into Ron for a hug.

"That was fantastic decision-making, Ron!" she said in a muffled voice.

"Always the tone of surprise," remarked Ron to gales of laughter from Harry, Dean and Ginny. She extracted her face from Ron's shoulder, looked at them and stuck out her tongue.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, plus Hermione, made their way into the castle as an imposing horde, all chattering with the excitement and adrenaline of the match they had just won. They climbed the marble staircase and turned left, heading for McGonagall's old office. They carved a swathe of slightly damp footprints through the castle until they reached the simple oak door that represented the threshold to the office now occupied by Professor Bell. Everybody fell silent as Harry knocked on the door.

"Come in," came her voice from inside. Harry and Ginny stepped into the office and the rest of the crowd waited outside, looking through the door in order to hear the news.

The office had changed from when Harry had last been inside, though this was hardly surprising. Gone were the tartan decorations and biscuit tin. Gone was the sense of rigid order and severity. Instead, the room was a splash of bright colour in an otherwise dusty, traditional castle. Muggle posters adorned the walls, beanbags could be found in the corners of the room and her desk supported a number of silver picture frames. The colour in the vivid display that really caught Harry's eye, however, was green, although she was clearly the head of Gryffindor due to the large Gryffindor crest behind her desk.

"And how may I help my winning team?" she asked as she looked up from a Muggle typewriter she was using.

"I was wondering," said Harry slowly, "whether we could hold the usual celebration party in the Gryffindor common room."

"And you wanted to know whether you were allowed in? Of course you can hold the party up there! May I join in?" Harry looked back towards the door. Dean and Ron were shaking their heads, but Demelza, Jimmy Peakes, Ritchie Coote and Hermione were all nodding.

"Of course you can! It's your team too!" The eight of them, accompanied by Professor Bell, walked along to the wide, sweeping staircase that led all the way up to the seventh floor.

"Last one there's a Horklump!" shouted Professor Bell, grinning, and with that she rocketed up the stairs. She took them three at a time, except when larger steps came up, and nobody could outpace her. When they eventually saw her again, she was leaning against the wall by the portrait of the Fat Lady, panting heavily. "Oh, I'm not as young as I used to be," she said. "_Horklump_."

The Fat Lady swung open to admit them all into the Gryffindor common room. Cheers erupted from inside, and Professor Bell clambered through the small hole. Instead of the cheers growing quieter due the presence of a teacher, they grew louder, as though the Gryffindors were cheering the fact that she had joined the party. As the team entered the common room, they could see that Professor Bell was dancing in the middle of the floor, starting a growing trend.

"She's an amazing head of house," said Peakes, running over to join the dance craze.

"Yeah, she's like one of us," said Coote, doing the same. Music was playing from a fifth year's wand, and it soon began to play the Macarena. Surprisingly, the Gryffindors all lined up and faced the same way, with Professor Bell at the very centre. Ginny, Dean, Harry, Ron and Hermione watched from near the entrance. As they began to dance to the Macarena, Harry's jaw dropped.

"How do they all know the Macarena?" he asked, utterly bewildered.

"More importantly," interrupted Ron, "what _is_ a Macarena?"

"_The_ Macarena," explained Hermione, "is the dance that they're all doing now. It's a Muggle dance. As to how they all know it, I'd hazard a guess that, because she's the Muggle Studies Professor, Professor Bell has taught it to them all, possibly at a previous party."

"They've had parties without us? Merlin's beard, I wish I was younger. Hey, where's Ginny gone?" As Ron looked around for her, Harry spotted her. She had joined in with the dancing at the edge of the crowd, where Peakes and Coote were trying to teach her. By the fourth iteration of the dance, she had almost completely got it and she was joined by the other eighth years. Eventually, the Macarena finished and the rows of dancers disbanded, only a few people staying on the dance to the next tune.

Professor Bell strode purposefully to the corner of the room and said something. The music was too loud for Harry to hear what she had said, but the next moment a house-elf had appeared, wearing a Hogwarts sash and a smile on his face. She spoke to him for a few moments before he nodded and disappeared again.

"Tables out!" she called loudly. Two dancing sixth years snapped to attention, saluting her, then drew their wands and pointed them at the wall. As they twirled their wands and muttered an incantation, tables emerged from the wall, each covered in a red and gold tablecloth. Almost immediately, plates and bowls appeared on the tables, laden with food. It was an even more impressive display than Fred and George had ever put on.

"Out of the way!" yelled Ron as he barrelled through to the tables. Picking up a plate, he loaded it with cocktail sausages, crisps, Honeydukes chocolate, pumpkin pasties and a chocolate frog.

"Ron!" scolded Hermione when she joined him. "That's not healthy." Ron grinned at her and turned back to the food. He grabbed a single leaf of lettuce and placed it on top of his food mountain. This earned him a smack on the arm.

The party was amazing, and when it eventually wound down, Professor Bell put the tables away and bid everyone goodnight. Nobody complained about having to go to bed as they were all so tired. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Dean trudged back to the eighth year common room, yawning every step of the way.

"That was the best party I've ever been to," said Ginny, "and now I'm completely zonked." She stifled a yawn. Harry looked at his watch, frowned, and concentrated on it again.

"But it's only eight o'clock," he said. "We've never finished a party this early."

"Well, I think she did a good job. McGonagall could never have got us to finish this early."


	16. Hope for Slytherin

**A/N: I know I haven't updated in aaaaaages, but I've been settling into university life. The workload is a nightmare! But rest assured that I haven't consigned this to the graveyard. As always, this is dedicated to The Magic Number - no matter how long it may take, I will never give up.**

**P.S. I hate people who beg for reviews. Asking for them once in a while is ok, but not all the time, and don't hold back chapters until you get enough. If you're someone who does this sort of thing, may I kindly ask you to stop? Thank you. Rant over - let's get on with the story...

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There was a low buzz across the Great Hall over breakfast. Though it was over half a week ago, Gryffindor's stunning Quidditch victory was still being widely discussed. Professor Bell smiled to herself, clearly happy that her house had made such an impact. As it wasn't a set meal, the staff had shuffled round at the High Table and Harry had ended up between Professor Bell and Professor Trelawney, who had made a surprise appearance, usually taking breakfast in her tower. The wild-haired, bespectacled professor was mumbling into her cereal about dark, foreboding shadows and impending doom.

As Harry started on the sausage and toast sandwich he had so carefully prepared, the usual owls flew into the room, settling on the tables in front of their designated recipients. Professor Bell, like so many others in the room, paid the owl in front of her a number of Galleons and signed a slip that was attached to the newspaper. The owl took off with the slip and money, and she began to read.

Feeling that his sandwich needed something extra, Harry used his wand to give the inside of it an even coating of ketchup, duplicated from Ron's personal bottle. He bit into the sandwich, and savoured the impeccable taste, though this came at the cost of dribbling ketchup down his chin. Worried, he looked down to see if anybody had noticed, and to his dismay he found several people looking up at him.

The expressions on the faces of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were staring at him, weren't expressions of amusement or embarrassment. They were looks of shock and worry. Harry shot a questioning look back, only for Hermione to hold up her copy of the Daily Prophet.

"June," Harry asked, looking to his left, "could I borrow the paper for a minute?"

"Of course you can," she replied, handing the paper over without a hint of his friends' shock. Harry flicked past a couple of mundane articles, stopping when it was clear what he needed to read.

_POWERFUL WAND THIEF NOW AT LARGE_

_Last night, an extremely powerful wand was stolen from Ollivander's wand shop, Diagon Alley. The thief has publicly admitted to this newspaper that he has stolen the wand through an extremely worrying and threatening letter. No demands have been made as of yet, but the culprit warns that he is prepared to take any necessary action to defend himself and to establish what he refers to as his rights._

_It is the belief of this reporter, however, that the thief has more than self-defence on his mind. He has stolen an experimental wand far more powerful than ordinary wands. He has made it clear that he knows how powerful the wand is and that he intends to use it to its full extent. We must ask ourselves whether our Ministry is ready to deal with such a person._

_Mr. Ollivander himself has refused to confirm or deny both the presence and the theft of such a wand, but this reporter has learned that the wand is made entirely from silver, and as such is very unstable. It is this newspaper's duty to warn the public about such dangers, and as such it is advised that you stay indoors as much as possible. Continued overleaf..._

Harry buried his head in his hands as he handed the Daily Prophet back to Professor Bell. This was not good. Harry knew the power of the wand, and how he only saw a fraction of that when it was tested. In the wrong hands, the relative peace that they had found since Voldemort's downfall could easily be shattered. Life for many people could go back to the way it was before, with most of the wizarding population too scared to venture out of their houses unless it was really necessary. These thoughts were racing through Harry's mind, and as he looked up, he had the same look of shock and worry on his face.

"You really ought not to worry yourself so much about stuff in the Prophet," informed Professor Bell. "It's probably just another made up story to fill pages and scare us. And anyway, it's preposterous to think that, even if this were true, a wizard could successfully use a solid silver wand. Silver just won't do it for us."

"You're right," agreed Harry. "They've probably just stolen it because it's made out of silver and they just want some quick money from it. There's quite a trade in silver among Muggles."

"Right you are!" exclaimed Professor Bell, impressed at Harry's knowledge of the Muggle world. Harry relaxed as Professor Bell turned back to her breakfast, knowing that she was right. Looking back to his friends sitting at the Gryffindor table, though Ron may have had a face full of toast, they all had the same looks of panic on their faces. Harry smiled at them, and signalled for them not to worry.

It wasn't safe for the four to talk about the article in Charms after the bell rang, as they were still working on supersensory charms. Hermione had perfected the spell a few lessons ago, and so she was at the other end of the room, whispering. Every other time he cast the spell, Ron could vaguely make out some of what she was whispering. Harry was doing quite a bit better, and spun round when he noticed, with the charm's help, that professor Flitwick was standing right behind him.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," he exclaimed. "Five points." Harry grinned and turned back to Hermione, who gave him a thumbs-up. Ron, determined to match Harry's success, especially in front of Hermione, waved his wand and muttered the incantation. Harry noticed his ears growing redder as Hermione whispered from far away with a glint in her eyes. There was an outbreak of giggling from a few people. Hermione abruptly stopped whispering and blushed heavily, knowing that others had heard what she had said.

Hermione didn't stop blushing until after lunch, when she could get away from the rest of the class, helping Harry teach the first years. Harry sat back while she lectured them on the ways a few dark wizards in the past conducted their reigns of terror, telling them not to always believe what they read or heard. She didn't mention Rita Skeeter, but Harry was sure that the Bug was at least part of the reason why she was so passionate about this particular subject. Nevertheless, it was a lecture, and as such a few people weren't paying attention

Hermione looked a bit put out when the bell went, but she had almost finished, so she let the first years out with a rueful smile. A single child stayed in his seat, his head in his arms and his body shaking. Hermione looked at Harry, who waved her off to a half-hour break. She smiled, knowing he would take care of it, and left. Harry walked up to the boy, whom he saw to be wearing a robe lined with the green of Slytherin, and he thought it very strange to see a Slytherin crying.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, sitting beside the boy and putting his arm around to comfort him. The boy looked into Harry's eyes, his lip quivering. "Slytherins don't cry." At this, the boys burst once more into tears, shining droplets of salty water running off his chin and splashing onto his lap.

"You said Slytherin was a good house to be in," the boy sniffled in between sobs.

"It is a good house," Harry confirmed. "There's nothing better about any of the other houses. They all have their unique personalities and characteristics, but no house is better than any of the others."

"Then why does everybody hate us? Every time I try to be friendly with someone they make a face at me and walk away. Sometimes they call me names..." Harry scowled at this news. "See," the boy continued, "even you're making a face at me." A fresh wave of tears followed this outburst.

"No, no, no," Harry said, trying to comfort the boy who was trying to wriggle away from him. "I'm not making a face at you. I'm making a face at the other houses. You say you tried to make friends with them?"

"Y-yes Professor," the boy replied, recovering from his tears.

"Well, it's going to be tough for you new Slytherins. There have been a lot of bad people coming from Slytherin, and so a lot of people think that Slytherins are evil. I know they're not," he added hurriedly. "Especially not the first years. Especially not you. If you keep trying to make friends with people, smiling at them, helping them when they need it, you might just turn the reputation of Slytherin around. Do you think you're up to that?"

"I'll try," replied the boy, not looking too hopeful for his future.

"Ok, and I'll help you," said Harry, brightening up. "If there's ever anything you need, whether it's someone to talk to, or help with homework – whatever – I'll always be here for you. You'll make a good Slytherin, and you'll make Slytherin good. Now go have fun. You've still got ten minutes before your next lesson." The boy smiled at him and got up from his seat. He passed Harry and left for whatever his next lesson was. Harry watched him go with a smile on his face. "There's hope for Slytherin yet," he murmured.

By the time dinner began that evening, Harry was rather tired, and very hungry. He sat up at the staff table, which was marginally quieter than the rest of the Great Hall, and greatly appreciated even the slight alleviation of the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. Clearly somebody had told the house elves about Muggle foods, because pizza was served on the golden plates before them. The Muggleborns tucked in immediately, grabbing handfuls of slices of their favourite toppings, and those from more magical families followed suit after a brief hesitation.

Harry's plate was loaded with the cheesiest pizza he had ever seen. It was a marvel to behold, and as his stomach growled, he was grateful for the constantly refilling plate. A desert of profiteroles came and went, enjoyed by everybody who had them, and as dinner finished, Harry was remarkably happier than when he came in. Inexplicably, however, he was still hungry, and resolved to get some food brought up to his office.

Harry was followed into his office by Ron, Hermione and Ginny, all of whom were patting their stomachs appreciatively. As Harry settled into the comfy, high-backed chair behind the desk, and the others settled into the oddly comfortable couches in the room, they spotted a sticky treacle tart, steaming on the desk. Harry began to lick his lips in anticipation, as anybody still peckish would.

"You can't still be hungry, Harry?" asked Ron. The girls looked surprised at this outburst from the monster eater himself.

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "Even Ron's full, and you know how much of a pig he is."

"Hey!" exclaimed Ron in mock outrage, amusement playing on his lips. "You're my sister. How does it feel to be part pig?" Ginny's smile slid off her face while another appeared on Hermione. She stuck her tongue out at her brother. Meanwhile, Harry smiled to himself, and reached for a slice of the tart. It was so thoughtful of someone to bring this up here. Suddenly, a voice cut harshly through the background hubbub.

"STOP!" Hermione was now standing in front of Harry and reaching for her wand. Everybody looked at her with quizzical expressions. She sighed. "Don't you think it's convenient that Harry, even after eating all that food, is still hungry, and that what he most wants is now right in front of him? I would have thought that even you, Harry, as Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, would have checked the tart for curses or jinxes or other effects. It could be poisoned for all you know!"

"Hermione, it was probably just sent up by the house elves," scoffed Harry. He caught the change in her expression, and hastily added, "You know how helpful they love to be. I really ought to thank them." Hermione relaxed, and sat back down. Harry continued to stretch for the tart.

"Well?" she asked abruptly.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to thank them?"

"Oh fine. You want me to call one up here right now?"

"Yes." Hermione crossed her arms and her legs, and leaned back on the couch. Harry sighed and relented.

"Dobby!"


End file.
